Love is Life
by Whas'up
Summary: True Love is magic, strong enough to break any curse, it can break a person just as easily. (oneshots that might make some people cry sorry)
1. True Love's Kiss

True Love's kiss.

Snow is half smiling, watching it happen, hope in her eyes and in her absently wringing hands, David catches one of her hands in his, squeezing, hope is there in him too, it makes Snow almost cry as she turns back to watch Robin pick Regina up off the ground.

Cursed, Snow thinks, cursed, but even the word has lost some potency, True Love's kiss can break any curse, after all. Robin picks Regina up from where she's been lying for some undetermined amount of time, lying in the sloshy mud and rivulets of melting snow water, arms wrapped around her waist, Regina's hands land on his chest, fingers scrabbling until they find purchase, until they clench in the lapels of his no longer needed thick coat.

Archie dances from foot to foot beside David, Pongo's leash wrapped multiple times around his wrist to keep the animal from running to Regina's side, the dog whines and whines.

Regina is shaking, tremors running through her, she'd been alone for long hours, ice in her heart as the battle raged elsewhere with Elsa, her fate unknown until Archie had stumbled upon her unresponsive and blue lipped in a melting snow drift.

Snow squeezes tighter on David's fingers, through their gloves she thinks his knuckles must be aching, but she can't loosen her grip, not as Robin says almost too quietly for her to hear, his words meant for Regina and it's only an odd breeze that bring them to Snow as well, "It'll be alright," he says, Regina's half closed eyes flicker, focus on him under heavy lids, uncooperative legs unwilling to hold her up, "I'm here, Regina." Robin smiles, his dimples deep in his wind burnt features, Snow smiles with him, she smiles for Regina, she smiles because decades after she'd ruined Regina's happy ending, here is another and the smile on Snow's face may never fade.

"I love you," Robin continues, his gaze on Regina's lips as he ducks his head down, as he moves his feet a little to gain better footing on the sloshy icy mud under his boots.

Snow cannot help but think of Marian, though she tries to shake the thought of Robin's wife away because this is True Love, and _because_ it is True Love Regina will be fine, her hair will cease being almost entirely white, there will be no frost on her skin, her lips will no longer be blue, it is True Love between the Queen and the Outlaw and so a kiss will save Regina. But Marian, lost as she'd watched Robin walk away from her, Marian watching confused as David had pulled his cell from his pocket, Marian, surprised as Robin had become more and more agitated as he'd listened to David's half of the conversation with Archie, Marian who loves her husband and her son, Marian who has done nothing wrong.

"But she's the Evil Queen," Marian had called to Robin's back as he'd raced away with Snow and David, leaving his own family behind and joining another to rush to Regina's side.

Snow cannot help but think of the month and a half Robin had spent with Marian, the month and a half that saw Regina thinner and thinner, her features tired, her smiles reserved only for Henry, poor Henry who knew his mother to be strong and fifty feet tall in his newly restored memories, poor Henry seeing her for the first time as the living breathing tortured woman she always was behind the masks.

"Love _me_," Snow had overheard Regina say one day, Snow had put her hands over her mouth, leaned her ear against the door to the restroom of Granny's and eavesdropped like a little girl listening to her parents fight, burning with curiosity and shame, "_choose_ me," Regina had cried.

"She's Roland's mother," was Robin's hushed reply, the sound of shuffling, the rustle of clothing from the other side of the door had Snow's eyes widening, "Regina, please-"

"She's Roland's mother," Regina voice was strange, before it had been pleading, and now it was strange, "and I'm the whore you fuck in a diner bathroom."

The gasp had escaped Snow without it meaning too, the sound covered by Robin's voice, louder than before, growling, "It isn't like that, you mean more to m-"

Shuffling again, Regina's voice, still strange, hollow, Snow thought and thought on it for days after, it had been hollow, "Don't touch me," Regina said, more shuffling and then the door upon which Snow's ear was planted against thumped, the solid thud of a body meeting the wood, "Get off me," Regina's voice seethed, muffled, her body the one against the door.

The urge to open the barrier between them, the urge to go to Regina, had almost got the better of Snow, but that's when Granny had found her, had found Snow with her ear still against the door, she hadn't been pleased just on principle at finding Snow eavesdropping. The old woman dragging Snow away by a grip on her arm that discolored the next day, the old woman glaring hard and unyielding, even more peeved as Snow tried to explain herself.

The smiles even for Henry dimmed after that.

It's in the past, Snow tells herself. The pain is in the past, Robin had broken Regina like none had accomplished before, Snow doesn't like to think of people as broken, but there is no other word that comes to her, not when remembering the barely hidden loathing in Regina's eyes whenever Regina looked in a mirror to fix her makeup, to smooth her hair, Snow thought she was the only one aware of it, until Henry had sobbed his preteen eyes out to Snow one day not a week ago, sobbing that he was scared for his mom.

But Robin will save her now, Snow thinks, he'll save her because it is True Love between them, it has to be. True Love's kiss will break any curse, Snow repeats in her mind on a loop, squeezing once more on David's fingers.

Robin's lips mold to Regina's, Regina's almost slack mouth, her blue lips, he meets them with his own fervently, Regina's head tips back with the force of it, a huge rush of light erupts from the pair of them, True Love, it _is_ True Love, golden and sweeping, it rushes from them.

Snow lets out a weeping breath, the hand not holding David's rushing up to cover her mouth, her eyes slamming closed as the light sweeps over her. It's after, days after, that Snow learns that every person it encountered felt exactly the same as she did at the magic's touch.

It's not the warm fuzzy feelings you'd think would come from True Love's kiss.

Snow shudders, the intensity leaving her shaking, because it's desperate wanting need, it's wondrous soaring happiness, in the same breath that it is bleeding and infected ridden puncture wounds all along her spine, the kind of pain that leaves one crippled, the kind of happiness men would die for, the feeling of their True Love is the heaviness that comes right before a comfortable sleep in the arms of your love, peaceful and calm, and it is the heaviness that comes from being too long underwater and needing your next breath, burning and frightful, clawing and clawing to get what is just out of your reach.

Gasping for air, but smiling so wide her cheeks hurt, Snow turns her eyes up in time to see Robin lean back, Regina's hair turning back to dark from tips to roots, True Love's kiss will break any curse. But Regina's dark hair does not look as it should, does not look soft, does not curl about her shoulders, Regina's hair has always been Snow's favorite feature, as a little girl Snow had run her fingers through it at every opportunity, and at the sight of it lanky, sweat quickly sprouting at the hair line, the little girl still alive inside Snow, the little girl that still calls Regina 'Mother', that little girl lets out a terrified whimper.

Pongo whines and whines, fighting at his leash, Archie using both hands to hold the animal back.

Robin knows something is not right at the same time Snow does, Snow drops David's hand, ignores the sound that comes from him, some sound of comfort or urge to stay with him, Snow takes a step forward, frown rushing and overpowering her smile just as Robin shakes Regina lightly in his hold, Regina's eyes are still only half open, the frost is evaporating from her skin, but her skin is an unnatural shade, like all the blood has leached from her.

"Regina," Robin says, panic blooming.

Snow gets close enough to hear Regina's answer, but it isn't words so much as a grunt that might have been Robin's name, and then one of Robin's boots slips in the mud as a particularly large dredge of ice slides down the slight slope and hits his ankle, has him sprawling in the mud on his back, Regina on his chest before he dredges up, Regina's body pliant still in his hold, "no, no, no," Robin chants, a hand in Regina's hair, forcing her face up to look at him.

A line of blood falls from the corner of Regina's mouth, her lips no longer blue, but they are colorless, the same unnaturally pale color as her face, the red is shocking as it travels down and down to the edge of her jaw before dripping. Snow turns to David, "Call an ambulance," she shrieks, and he already has his phone in his hands, fingers already punching the keys

Robin has one hand at her neck to hold her almost sitting up, the other runs over her form until it's with a gasp that he must have found the injury, his hand at her abdomen, almost curling around her waist, he keens, Regina's name over and over as Snow lands on her knees beside the pair. Snow looks at Robin's hand, at where he's found the warm patch of blood, her black coat made shiny with it, the wool a little darker, but there is no red on the coat, but red stains Robin's hands as he desperately tries to stop the flow.

More than a curse to the heart had felled her, Snow should have known, Regina is stronger then that.

"Look at me," he says, shakes her again, Regina's eyes flicker, not even a full blink, but her gaze does move vaguely in his direction, "Regina, please," he begs, Snow looks on, unwilling to leave her spot beside Regina, she has one of Regina's limp hands in her grasp, squeezing as hard as she had squeezed David's. "Stay with me," Robin says.

Regina draws in air, a sloshing wet noise where it shouldn't be, a gurgle of blood streaming in that steady line out the corner of her mouth, "go back," she says, her breath hitches, Robin's heavy brow crumples, Snow has hot tears down her face, "wife," Regina gurgles.

Go back to your wife. Snow doesn't think any other words could have Robin flinching as hard as those.

He holds Regina tighter, snarl on his face, "I choose you," Robin says.

Regina's lips twitch, a new stream of blood out the other corner, Snow has always thought Regina was the most beautiful women she'd ever seen, even at her most evil, at her most unhinged, it's the same here, the red of her blood painting her lips, her eyes shiny with tears, it's a tragic beauty now, like it never was before, the air around them weighted with sorrow. Flashing in Snow's mind is the beauty of the girl that had saved Snow a lifetime ago, the girl in her blue coat, a braid down her back, that poor girl, Snow weeps looking back on that poor girl, weeps looking down at Regina in the mud.

Pongo whines and whines, and then he howls.

"Rolan-," hitch of breath, "-ds mother," Regina wheezes, her body spasms, Snow hold's tighter to Regina's delicate hand in her grasp, the hand that had wielded flame and magic, that had killed, is stained with the blood of so many, the hand that had rubbed circles into Snow's back when she was ill as a child, the hand that had held a bottle for Henry as a baby, Snow holds it tightly.

"Regina," Snow doesn't make the choice to speak, her voice squeaks out without thought, Robin turns devastated eyes to her, glaring, as if this time, it might be all Regina has left, is only for him, but Regina is _just_ as much Snow's as she is Robin's, _more_, some petulant voice cries in the back of Snow's head, Regina is more mine then his. "An ambulance is coming," Snow says, looks over her shoulder to make sure it's the truth and David is there, nodding his head, 'it's coming' he mouths, he's added his hand to Pongo's leash, the dog thrashes against the lead.

"Regina," Snow looks back to Regina, raises a hand to wipe a tear off Regina's cheek, "just hang on, okay?"

But she's already gone.

Shock runs through Snow, mouth gaping open, Regina's eyes half open but no longer seeing, her body heavy, slumping down and down, until Robin pulls her against his chest, Snow's hand forced off as he screams out a terrible wail, but it's more than a wail, it's torn from him, as if his soul is tearing its way free, scratching and clawing every inch up his throat. Snow has never heard such pain.

David's hands land on Snow, on Snow's shoulders, they are the only things that keep her from lying on the ground to weep.

Pongo howls and howls, so loudly, but it can't drown out Robin, who screams and screams, fights for breath and then again, again, holding Regina, but it isn't Regina any more, Snow thinks as if from far away, Robin holds Regina's body to him.

* * *

**authors note, outlaw queen week over on tumblr, thought I might post them here for kicks**.

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	2. Trapped Together

Trapped. Fucking trapped, Jesus Christ.

Granny is a wolf through and through, and a wolf is never meant for a cage. Granny paces around the cavern, her boots are old, the tread on the bottom almost worn off, it has her feet slipping every other step, but she can't stop moving, restlessly, hackles raised and her hands rubbing at each other for warmth. She's so pissed she can hardly see straight.

"The ice wont melt," Regina says, the flames in her hands dwindling down and down, until they are gone completely, her breath puffing out of her lungs in the cold, Granny can see the girl's fingers shaking before Regina tucks her hands deep into the pockets of her woolen jacket.

"Use some other magic then," Granny suggests, it comes out a growl and when once again her boots slip, she flings her hands out and grabs the nearest thing, which turns out to be Marian. Marian isn't enough, the slip of a woman, Granny could have rolled her eyes if she weren't on her way to the ground, if she breaks her hip she's gonna murder someone, starting with the ice bitch that trapped them in this cold hell.

"Marian!" Robin's voice is too loud in the space, echoing against the ice, he catches his wife, tries to catch Granny too, and fails.

God damn, son of a bitch, for fu-

"Are you alright?"

Granny's got a face full of ice and the stupid girl asks her that? Regina's shaking hands help Granny sit up on the frozen ground, Granny's ass is freezing through three layers of clothes, "Try some other magic," Granny seethes, righting her glasses with angry hands, after her glasses are firmly on her nose, it's only then, that she gets a good look at Regina, the girl is on her knees at Granny's side, her ears are bright red, the urge to yell at Regina for not wearing a hat seems absurd, but she thinks it all the same.

Regina nods, stands and it's painfully obvious that she takes great effort not to even look at Robin and his wife, he's clutching the woman to his chest with one arm, clutching at her as if she'd just escaped certain death instead of a small fall, Regina may not want to look at them, but Granny has no qualms and she watches from the ground, unaware of the scowl on her features, as Robin pulls his wife in tighter, all the while his eyes follow the back of Regina's head as she raises her hands to the ice.

Granny hoists herself up from the ground, she's perfectly aware of the snarl on her mouth now as she puts herself between Regina's back and Robin's gaze, the gaze that had traveled from her hair, down her form, the hunger on his features as he'd followed the notches of the girl's waist has Granny filled with something hot and disgusted, the bastard has his wife in his arms and him looking at Regina like that isn't fair, it's plain not fair to the girl.

Robin's eyes leave Regina, look into Granny's harsh glare, he has the sense to look ashamed.

"Come on, girl, let's get outta this mess," Granny barks, turns and leaves Robin to hold his wife, Marian, who isn't as blind as her husband imagines, but Marian's judgment filled stare isn't on Robin, it's on Regina's back.

The urge to protect the girl isn't a new thing, some primal and dark part of Granny that she has tried to beat down, because it is the wolf, and Granny is _more_ than just the wolf, it looks at Regina and sees a monster just like itself, the wolf sees a pup when it looks at Regina. Granny the woman sees things a bit more clearly, remembers the villages Regina had burned, the people Regina has killed, Granny knows the horrors of the Evil Queen, but with all that she also remembers almost three decades of the coldly distant but always polite Mayor that had a smile at the sight of apple pancakes and hot coffee.

Purple magic swirls around Regina's hands, it coalesces over the ice, gentle tendrils searching and slipping over and over, the girls hands are still shaking, tremors running up her both her arms.

Robin and Marian's voices murmur behind her as Granny walks three steps to lay a hand on Regina's back, Regina flinches at the touch, her eyes springing open as she turns her head to look at Granny. There's no hiding the disappointment on Regina's face as she sees it's Granny beside her, Granny with a hand on her, and not the man that still has his arm around his wife.

"Well?" Granny asks.

The magic cuts off without preamble, there and then gone, as Regina lowers her hands and delves them deep into her pockets again, her shoulders hunched as she tries to keep any warmth she can.

"My magic can't even touch it," Regina admits.

The girl's nose is bright red, as bright red as her ears, concern wells up, the wolf thrashes. Granny sweeps her own hat off her head, a knitted and thick thing, fluffy light blue wool; Granny tugs it onto Regina, tugging until the material covers the girl's ears. The girl let's her do it, her head tilts once Granny is done.

"What are you doing?" Regina asks, one hand lifting to run her fingers over the material, before she tries to snag it off.

Granny snarls, but takes a breath as Regina's hand stills, as her features show alarm before her blank mask covers it all. "Keep it on," Granny orders, the biting cold breeze, and thank goodness there is a breeze to be felt, thank goodness it's not suffocation they're dealing with too, the breeze cuts into Granny's newly exposed skin.

"Regina," the girl flinches at the sound of Robin calling her name, her head shoots immediately to look at him, he's got Marian's hand in his, pulls his wife a step when he moves forward, "is there no way out?" he asks, he's got those hungry eyes again, the wolf looks and recognizes the hunger in his gaze as his eyes sweep along the contours of Regina's face, he smiles slightly at the sight of her in the fluffy hat.

"Snow and David know where we are," Regina answers, her spine is straight, she's got steel in her spine, but those eyes of hers will be her downfall, Granny thinks, wet wells of desperation, looking at Robin like Robin is the lifeboat and the shark all wrapped together. "They'll come," Regina rests a hand absently against the ice wall, her unprotected fingers running lightly against the slick surface, "Emma's magic may work here," her sentence drifts, she's obviously in thought.

"Surely magic isn't our only hope?" Marian asks, her body angled to her husband, quiet voice, as if to keep Regina out of it, but the space is too small to keep anyone out of anything.

"What do you suggest?" Regina bites. Marian purses her lips, caught between annoyance and fear.

"Magic is dangerous," Marian responds, that's not an answer to the question asked, more like a statement of fact, there's something else in her tone, '_you_ are dangerous' it seems to say to Regina, Marian's got steel in her spine too.

"Hypothermia even more so, if you have nothing helpful to ad-"

"That's enough," Robin says, with his too loud voice, he's still got Marian's hand in one of his own, but he reaches the other to grasp at Regina's arm, his grip tight, his fingers digging into her arm before Regina steps back, pulling her arm free so hard her elbow smacks against the ice wall with a nasty crunch.

"Don't touch me, Robin," Regina says, that awful blank mask on her face, but those eyes, those big dark eyes are welling with tears, it has nothing to do with the arm she's injured.

Jesus Christ, awkward, Granny can't help thinking, eyebrows rising looking between the two, and then to Marian, Granny doesn't know what Robin ever told his wife, but looking at Marian now she can tell it wasn't all of the truth. Marian swallows, a harsh breath of air in, eyes looking from her husband's profile and back to Regina. Something dark and hateful grows as she looks at Regina.

"So we wait," Granny deduces, because Regina is the powerhouse here, and there's nothing she can do to the ice and that is that.

Regina conjures layers upon layers upon even more layers, enough for each person and more besides, it leaves her shaking all over, her teeth clattering even under the warmth of an extra jacket and multiple blankets.

"Get over here," Granny growls, her back against a wall, her ass on the ground, motioning Regina to her side, the ground where Granny is actually quite comfy with the blankets and hot water bottles that Regina has provided.

Regina shakes her head once, and then Granny is dragging the girl by her wrist down to her, wrapping her in an embrace, Robin watches it all from the other side of the small space, his gaze burning with some bitter jealously as Granny holds Regina, throwing blanket after blanket over them until they have a little cocoon of body heat to keep the cold from seeping into their bones.

Granny rubs hands up and down Regina's back, Regina is still and tense, that spine of hers straight as if to keep her weight off of Granny, "Why are you doing this?"

"Body heat," Granny answers.

Regina nods her head, but it's more than body heat, it's the wolf needing its pup, and when Regina nuzzles her head into Granny's shoulder, the girls spine relaxing, her body curving against Granny's side, the wolf is as content as it will ever be.

* * *

Granny's awake the moment one single blanket is peeled back from the pile over her and Regina.

She keeps her breaths even, she keeps her body relaxed.

"Regina," Robin whispers, but his voice is always too loud, he's used to open spaces, used to forests and fields, he can't keep his voice down for the life of him.

Granny's eyes slit open, just enough to see.

Regina stirs, tightens her arms around Granny's waist, grumbling and nuzzling her head, he has to repeat her name before she seems to recognize the voice, "Robin?" she asks, voice heavy with sleep, his name warm from her mouth, she's still asleep really and his wife melts away, her heartbreak seems melted away, she greets him like a lover would, his name slipping from her with a soft smile, the girl is still practically sleeping. Regina moves, but it's not her own muscles drawing her from the blankets, she's pulled out with a squeak, Robin's hands around her upper arms.

Granny beats down the urge to kill him for handling Regina that way, but her ire sputters out as she watches in shock as he draws Regina to him and kisses her, solidly on the mouth, his fingers dig into her arms, tears track down his face, his eyes are slammed shut. Regina kisses him back.

This isn't my business, Granny thinks, she urges the wolf back, for all her want to protect Regina, this is not Granny's business, but she can't close the slit of her eyes, can't help but watch.

Regina moans into Robin's mouth, he pulls her more into him, one hand going up into her hair, the wool hat on her head dislodges, falls to the ice floor without a single noise. It's a wet kiss, noisy, Regina moans again, her breath hitching as Robin moves them away from Granny on shuffling knees and when he sits he draws her forward onto his lap, so she's straddling his right thigh.

This _really_ is not my business, Granny thinks, but her gaze turns to Marian, Robin's wife is asleep, her face peaceful as it peeks out of the layers and layers Regina had given her, her insistence that magic is dangerous evaporating at the sight of the blankets Regina presented to her. His wife is sleeping and isn't five feet from him and he does this?

Regina draws away from Robin, panting and tilting her head up, Robin's got desperate hands at the small of her back, drawing her closer and down onto his thigh, he growls out her name, leans forward and bites into the exposed skin of Regina's neck, it has her letting out a wordless little noise, a guttural noise. Regina's heavy eyes open, she's awake now, really fully awake, panting as Robin urges her to rock against him, panting as Robin has his mouth on her neck. Regina runs her hands up through his hair, sweeping down his neck, Robin grunts as her fingers play against his straining neck, her eyes are still open, Granny can't read her expression, there's hatred there, for herself, for Robin, confusion, so much confusion, suddenly Regina has both palms smacking against his chest.

"Fuck you," she spits.

He tries to restrain her hands as she pushes and pushes against his chest, open palmed hits, Robin gets a slap to the face for his trouble, the sharp crack of it has Marian letting out a deep breath, brow crinkling, but still asleep.

"Regina, please," Robin hisses, his hands coming and clamping at her hips as she tries to get away from him, "I _love_ you, I need you," he says.

Regina lets out a bitter guffaw, pushing at his hands, "You need me?" she digs, mocking voice, cold and cutting, all haughty tyrant but it's a mask just like all the rest, "Your wife is right over there, thief," she seethes, twisting and twisting to try and get his hands off, "you _need_ me so badly that you'd fuck me next to your sleeping wife?"

"I love you," Robin says, his too loud voice, it sounds tortured, but Granny has no sympathy for him, not when Regina has those huge dark eyes filled with unfallen tears. Has no sympathy for him, not when he'd picked Regina up like a toy because he _needed_ her, he _needed_ her, after having Marian in his arms since the day the woman was brought forward in time. _Needed_ her, after dropping her like a hot potato.

"Then leave your wife," Regina says, and it's magic that crackles on her hand as she lands it against his chest, his grip loosens with a grunt, his body bucking, Regina scoots off him as fast as she can.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Robin says after a bit, his breathing labored, Regina sitting a little away from him, breathing just as loudly, her shoulders shaking, her teeth clattering, her magic has her more susceptible to the cold, but she sits and stares right back at Robin.

"How was it supposed to be?" Regina asks, the poor girl can barely get the words out, is shaking so hard, but she holds a hand up in warning when Robin makes a move to touch her.

He slumps back, rubbing at his face.

"I love you," Robin says again, but it doesn't mean a goddamned thing.

Emma melts the ice from the other side not an hour later.

* * *

**authors note, outlaw queen week over on tumblr, thought I might post them here for kicks**.

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	3. First (& Last)

She'd said it, for the first time, during the missing year.

"You're a good man, Robin Hood," Regina had said, had said it damningly, those dark eyes staring as if she could see into every nook and cranny of Robin's soul, the urge to squirm under her scrutiny had almost overcome him, but in the end he remained steady in his seat, only swaying lightly with every step his mare made, the horse under him read his anxiety though and whinnied, dancing from foot to foot.

"What prompts this, M'lady?" Robin had responded, lightness to his tone that he did not feel, Little John on his huge gelding watching from up high, the man's eyes narrowed as he heard the strain in Robin's voice. Regina's dark gaze, her kohl rimmed gaze, had swung down to the landscape ahead, the wet hills and grey clouds. There was no expression on her face, no anger, no sadness, no mirth, blank, like some dusty portrait upon a wall instead of a living and breathing woman in the flesh beside him.

"Roland regaled me with stories of his Papa at breakfast," she told him, a grin tipped the corner of her mouth up, almost mocking, "his Papa is a hero, as he tells it," Regina let out a breath of air that might have been laughter, weak and gone in the wind that whipped her hair, gone before Robin had time to savor it.

"He likes his stories," Robin shrugged, he knew for a fact that Roland could spin a tale better than any bard, and Robin had known the boy had sat on her lap for the morning meal, Robin had watched and thought himself stealthy until David had cleared his throat pointedly, the commoner turned royal had an eyebrow raised, gaze going from Regina with the child and back to Robin before returning to his meal with a shake of his head.

Regina's mount gave a huge guff of air through its nose, and seemingly without thought Regina leaned to the side, loose in her seat, had patted the animals neck softly, her mount was black, her clothes were black, her long hair, left down and springing into curls that seemed so thick Robin could lose his hand to them if he dared reach his fingers to touch, his fingers twitched, tightened on the reins, her hair was black. And the land around them and the scouting party was grey, bleak and wet.

"My favorite story," she'd said, that almost smile still on her face as she'd looked up at him, her hand still lazily stroking the horse's strong and corded neck, "had the gallant and noble thief defending the river lands from the Naiad of the Weeping," the animal calmed under Regina's touch.

Robin's brow furrowed, he twisted in his seat to glare at John, who suddenly was looking elsewhere, a too innocent look on his face, "My Merry Men must learn which stories are appropriate for a child's ear," Robin had chastised.

Another laugh escaped her, her laughter was a fleeting thing, never lingering, but the sound was not absent completely from the castle, even with the sorrow she wore like a cloak about her narrow shoulders at the loss of her child, even with the threat of the green witch. Robin lived for the fleeting moments when her laughter came to him, her low laughter, a rumble from her chest like the purr of a large cat, like the lions of the south, or the tigers of the east, he lived for her laughter. "Surely your great deeds deserve telling?" there was no more hiding her mocking as she straightened upon her saddle.

"Great deeds are for great men," Robin nudged his mare's side with his heel, urging her faster, the rest of the party had pulled ahead, John had some trouble urging his huge mount to match Robin's speed, but Regina's sprung forth with just a cluck of her tongue, she matched Robin's pace. Robin tipped a grin to her, his focus on the path ahead of his horse's hooves, his grin grew at Little John's calls to wait, the huge man wasn't built to ride a horse, "I'm but a man, M'lady, my boy imagines me ten feet tall."

"You _are_ a good man," Regina said again, her eyes pointed down when Robin risked a look over at her, "saving the innocent," her voice got quiet, he barely heard her over the trotting horses, the clomp clomp of their hooves almost drowning out her precious voice, "and slaying the monsters."

Robin frowned, looked again at her, the mirth was gone from her, always as fleeting as her laughter, that blank look back upon her face, that awful blank look, as if she were already a portrait hung upon a wall, a person lost to time, left to be unremembered and unremarked upon.

"M'lady," Robin began, because her thoughts were not hard to decipher, not when she hissed out 'monster' and stabbed her own self with it.

She clicked her tongue and was gone, the black coated horse under her shooting off like an arrow from a crossbow, galloping so fast the animal looked to be not touching the ground under it at all, she passed the rest of the party in moments, her hair streaming behind her like tendrils of black silk, it was reckless. Visibility was not an issue, the fog these endless knolls were famous for having lifted early in the afternoon, Robin attempted to have his mare catch her, passing his men as they tried to call him back, but Robin couldn't achieve half the speed she did, Robin was left to watch as she raced and raced ahead, a black outlier on the grey landscape.

It was reckless and dangerous and silly, he told her when the party caught up to her.

But the sight of her racing on that horse, wild and spontaneous, black hair streaming, it was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in all his years.

* * *

She'd said it again three days after Marian was returned to him.

Regina answered her door, kept her hand on the knob, did not step aside, Robin did not expect to be welcome in her home, not anymore, not after embracing Marian, after kissing Marian, after knowing the ding of the diner door was Regina retreating as he held Marian and Roland tightly, Robin had not followed Regina and he no longer expected to be welcome in her home, but it stung like wasp sting straight to his heart.

"Regina," Robin had begun, studying her, that awful blank mask was on her face, strident and heartbreaking for all its stillness, he'd seen under all her masks, and the loss of the privilege of seeing her true face ached, but Marian is his wife, the love he vowed to cherish for all his life. "Please forgive me," Robin said, and knew those words were wrong, he had no right to ask for forgiveness, he was the one throwing her trust and her hopes back into her face.

Robin does not want to do this, not to her, never to her, he wants to kiss that blank mask off, wants to hold Regina in his arms and whisper in her ear of the second chance they were to share, the future they were to live together, wants her so badly he could collapse from the pain of not having her. But in the same breath he wants Marian, Marian, beautiful Marian and her sweet nature and her lovely face. And Marian is his wife, the one he has already made a promise to.

(He'd made promises to Regina too, had not said them with words, but made them all the same; Robin leaves his promises broken at her feet, like every other promise made to her.)

Regina swallowed harshly, her dark eyes never leaving Robin's face, her gaze taking him in, it feels like a goodbye as she studies his every feature, every line that makes him, "There's nothing to forgive," Regina tells him.

"Don't say that," Robin took a step closer to her, stopped when she held up a hand.

"You have your wife back," Regina's voice was flat, it did nothing to hide the pain inside her, Robin had seen the pain inside her since the day she'd almost pricked her finger with the sleeping curse, had seen her sorrow, "I'm unnecessary, I understand."

"I would have loved you," Robin said, torn from him, even knowing it could only cause her more pain, more sorrow.

Regina flinched like he had struck her. Guilt heaved over him, guilt and the need to comfort her, the need to hold her like the precious thing she was.

When he'd stepped closer she made a motion to close the door on him and with one swipe of his hand the knob was torn from her grasp with a gasp, when he grabbed her she didn't fight, her hands falling to his neck as he gripped her waist and held her there with her forehead against his. Regina sagged into him, let out a shaky breath, Robin choked, fighting down tears with a snarl, he was hurting her, and he was the one crying, shame colored his face.

"I would have loved you," he said again, he loved her already, loved the scrunch of her nose, loved the heavy thickness of her hair, he loved her sharp tongue and biting wit, loved her vulnerable with big eyes, loved her strong with a jutted out chin, he's already hopelessly in love with her, but he can't…

He can't.

Marian is his wife, Marian is Roland's mother.

"I would have held you and cherished you, Regina, you deserve more than this, I am so sorry."

Regina tipped her head up, a crack in that blank mask, a fissure of heartbreak, tears overflowing from her dark eyes, that watery gaze fell to his lips, and she kissed him.

A soft thing, a ghost of the affection they had shared before, when she leaned her head back he followed after, stealing one more touch from her beautiful lips before he accepted it for what it had been. A goodbye kiss that left him hollow and tortured.

"You're a good man, Robin Hood," Regina said, stepped out of his arms and turned from him, walked away with her heels clacking, her front door open and waiting for him to leave of his own accord.

A good man, he remembers, who saves innocents and slays monsters, Robin turns, fights and wins against the need to follow her into her huge house, to follow her and shake her by her shoulders and tell her he is no 'good man', Robin has never been a good man, just as he was not a great man, he knew it then for a certainty, because good men don't destroy the women that care for them, good men don't tear the hearts given to them to shreds.

It's not manly to weep, Robin reminded himself, but wept all the same, because when Regina called him a good man, she was calling herself a monster, because good men slay monsters.

* * *

**authors note, outlaw queen week over on tumblr, so none of these oneshots are 'meant' to be related, or like in the same story, it's pure angst for angst sake. and it's not related to Fester (which is another story of mine but that doesn't matter here), so yeah.**

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	4. Domesticity

Robin, contrary to what most would assume, is _not_ a morning person, living in the forest for long years, where the sun shined early and the birds chirped even before the first rays of dawn, saw a bleary eyed and decidedly grumpy Robin emerging from his tent far too early for his liking.

Roland, through nature or nurture or some mix of both, is much the same.

But it isn't birds that drag them from their beds now that they live boxed in by the tall stone walls of the castle, no, it was now Little John' booming voice and his large hands tearing the blankets from their slumbering bodies that woke them, that development only served to see man and child even more bad tempered.

The pair sit with matching expressions of vague dissatisfaction, with scrunched eyes as though they are still adjusting to the soft dawn light that seems to be exactly in their eyes no matter how they turn their heads, father and son sit side by side on a hard wooden bench, breakfast before them, placed there by a softly laughing John, who is a _morning person_.

"Papa?" Roland asks, and when Robin turns his head, eyes squinting to see the boy, Roland's cheeks are filled, the food in his mouth in danger of splaying as he speaks while chewing. Robin turns back to his food with a fond shake of his head.

It's too early for admonishments and lessons on politeness, and in any case the Merry Men are not renowned for manners, Robin grunts a reply, a forkful of eggs shoved rather violently into the air above his plate, he eyes it distrustfully before putting it in his mouth and chewing.

"The Queen doesn't have enough," Roland says.

Robin's brain takes a moment to make sense of the sentence, "The Queen?" he questions, honestly confused, because it's too early to be thinking of the Queen and her dark hair and dark eyes, he'd dreamt of her the night before, dreamt that he had sunk his hands in her hair and when he tried to pull them out he couldn't, and then didn't want to anyway, her beautiful dark hair, that's all he can fuzzily recall, and he only remembers the dream at all when Roland speaks of her.

Roland rolls his eyes, a habit learned from Mulan most likely, underneath that stoic warrior façade hides a sarcastic streak a mile wide, the expression has Robin sighing to a vision of a teenaged Roland rolling those same eyes in years to come, "The Queen, Papa," and Roland points, little chubby finger extending over the table, Robin follows the trajectory across the hall, his brain still slow to process, which leads him to starring at the woman in question for a full thirty seconds before becoming aware that he is, in fact, staring at her.

She's wearing red, his eyes tell him, that conclusion taking another twenty seconds of staring, it's a nice color on her, brings to mind danger, like the bright markings of a poisonous snake, but it's passion too, the red of a beating heart, red of pounding blood, but for all its boldness in color, the dress is actually quite a bit more demure then Robin has come to expect from her, modest, the simple line of it is pretty on her, it's demure, except for the cleavage of course, which Robin, still half asleep, can admit he'd miss quiet terribly.

"Enough what?" Robin finally turns away from staring at her, tearing his eyes from her breasts had taken him another thirty seconds, a slant of sunlight in his face actually being the thing that broke him from his bleary staring.

"_Food,"_ Roland stresses exasperatedly, his own morning grumpiness showing through, it looks far better on Roland then it does on Robin.

"Oh," Robin says, looks again and forces himself to look at the plate in front of Regina instead of at her cleavage, it's a hard battle but he achieves it.

The portion she's taken _is_ small, but she's a small woman, Robin thinks, compact, his sleepy thoughts tell him, Robin's hands could probably splay over her whole back, wrap around her waist, the word _snug_ seems to come from out of nowhere, and with it all sorts of sexual thoughts that race through Robin like a runaway horse through a tea party, one thought burns through him, the thought of him hard for her and pushing inside her inch by wet torturously delicious inch, the thought of finding out how exactly _snug_ she is as she pants out Robin's name and digs marks into his shoulders with her nails, and suddenly sleepy Robin is awake, awake and startled at the visuals playing in his head.

"Papa? I can give her some of my eggs," Roland's voice is a bucket of cold water, and thank god, Robin thinks.

"No, my boy," Robin looks down at his son, ruffles the boys hair at the concern Roland wears looking at the Queen, "Some people don't eat very much so early in the day."

"Why?" Roland is confused, his face screwed up trying to work out why someone would willingly not eat as much as they possibly can, the boy has the appetite of a horse no matter the time of day, those dimples of his getting him a snack every time he wanders down the kitchens.

Robin shrugs, "Uncle Tuck doesn't eat in the morning because it hurts his stomach," Robin answers with a poke to the boy's belly.

"She doesn't look hurt," Roland mutters, swatting irritably at Robin's hand, Roland becomes quiet, that grumpy bleary eyed gaze studying his own plate. "I'm giving her some of my eggs," the boy finally decides, turning on his butt and jumping from the bench, grabbing his plate and in seconds he is already too far away to draw back without yelling.

He's a stubborn boy, worse in the morning, absolutely dreadful at bedtime, and Robin grumbles under his breath watching Roland stomp his little feet across the hall, the heavy steps of a child who doesn't know his weight yet.

The Queen welcomes Roland with tilt of her head, Robin stabs at his eggs, but his focus is on the boy and the woman, their lips moving but Robin can't hear, Roland gestures at her, gestures then to her plate, and then to his own plate, and as he speaks she smiles, a small thing, her teeth not showing, but it lifts the corners of her eyes.

Roland gestures again at his plate, hard little eyes looking up at her, stubborn little boy, Robin thinks, and then Roland plops down next to her and shoves his food on her plate.

She has tolerated the boy in the past, seems to dote on him actually, all of Roland's affection returned, the notorious Evil Queen with a soft spot for children seems to have wormed her way into his son's heart hard and fast. But Robin can read the tense line of her shoulders now, the smile that's quickly becoming a grimace, Robin stands.

"Roland," he calls when he's close enough, and when she looks up Robin thinks he can see relief on her face, whatever fleeting expression he'd seen is gone before he can fully appreciate it though.

"Your boy was telling me the benefits of a healthy breakfast," Regina says blandly, and Roland nods next to her, unaware of anything wrong.

Robin doesn't know exactly what is wrong either, knows only that she's clearly uncomfortable, and the thought makes Robin unhappy so viscerally that it has him desperately wanting to fix it, whatever it is.

"You need to eat so you can be big and strong, Regina!" the boy says, he's beginning to perk up, her mere company enough to draw the sweet child from behind the grumpy goose he wakes as. "I want you to be big and strong," Roland says, pouting with huge 'comfort me' eyes.

She melts, she absolutely and utterly melts, the sight of it has a _feeling_ rising in Robin that he brutally tries to crush, because that feeling is warmth and it's, it's a lot of complicated things that really seem untimely and just plain unwise. But when she raises her arm and pulls Roland into her side, a half hug that has Roland sighing and closing his eyes like he's being pulled into heaven as he lays his head against her chest, that warmth fights and fights and then it's all over, Robin doesn't know it's all over, but it's all over, the smile that grows on his lips has his whole face brightening.

"Well," Regina says, a cajoling voice that's meant to entice the child, but certainly entices Robin too, "how about we share," she motions to the plate Roland had shoved his food on, "and then you can be big, and I'll be strong?"

"But I want to be strong too!" Roland cries as if he's being swindled, but makes no move to exit her embrace.

Regina blows out a breath of air, "alright, alright," she concedes, "shall I be big then?"

When Robin snorts her gaze snaps up, like her whole world was the boy and she'd forgotten Robin was there, that thought stings, but Robin can't help but snigger more when her eyes narrow, "Something funny, thief?" she asks.

"No, M'lady," Robin bows his head, his hands splaying in apology, but he can't wipe his grin off his face.

"But I want to be big," Roland whines, his face in utter turmoil.

The laugh that leaves Regina is a lovely thing, and Robin falls even further into _feeling_ things, face first with a smile on his face as he lands a hand on the boys back, hand rubbing in circles to reassure the boy, it's terrible impulse, born of the _feelings_, but friendship too, camaraderie and deep gratitude at her affection for the boy, that has him landing a hand on her back as well, between her shoulder blades, the satin of her red dress warmed by her body and its soft, but he imagines if her back was bare it would be softer. "I'll fetch you a new plate, my boy," he chuckles, his hand sliding down her spin, down to her midback before Robin realizes and understands that she would not want the touch, the thought is proven correct when she goes rigid, and Robin has his hand off her immediately, she throws him a look, dark eyes cutting, but her eyes are the windows to her soul and it's confusion she feels at his touch.

At his apologetic smile her confusion grows, dark and twisted there in her eyes, it's agonizing to see her so distraught over a gentle touch, but the mere notion that it was kind, the mere notion that he is sorry, seems to be where the brunt of the confusion is coming from, but the boy drags her attention back down as Robin walks away to fetch another plate.

* * *

**authors note: I tried to have it not be angsty, and I don't even know anymore man, it's like fluff, what is it? happy what is it? I did my best... I did my best...**

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	5. Forbidden Love (1?)

There's a handprint on the stone of the wall, bright red, fresh, the perfect marks of four fingers, a thumb, a palm, a small hand had left it there.

"What is it?" John hisses, turning slightly to look at Robin, Robin frozen and staring at the bloody handprint, the bag across John's back clinking; he's straining with the weight of the gold in that pack, frowning and looking at Robin with absolutely no patience.

Robin adjusts the straps of his own bag, he grimaces when the noise is more then he'd like, even with the guard at the end of the hall knocked unconscious by way of John's fist, grimaces because this job was a bad idea from start to finish. And now there's that bloody handprint on that stone wall, awful haunting red pulling Robin closer, squinting in the poor light the candles that line the hall give.

"There," Robin whispers back, soft voice and soft footfalls, the light and practiced footfalls of an accomplished thief, but the bag on his back clinks once more.

Little John looks at the blood, his frown deepening, "We have to go," John reminds Robin, and Robin nods, but looks down the hall, has his fingers ghosting along the stone, and there, not five paces away, is more blood, the streak of it on the stone has Robin knowing that whoever is bleeding, it's a woman, a small woman with small hands, had steadied themselves against the wall but kept moving, had kept their hand on the wall for three, perhaps four, steps before pushing themselves off.

"Robin," John whispers, standing still by the awful fresh bloody handprint, there's exasperation on the large man's face, anxiety in every line of his frame as he has watchful eyes in constant vigilance. King Leopold was rumored to be a kind King, though he let his poor starve like any other, but even a kind King would not take thieves in his home lightly. It's not death that would await Robin and John, but for certain they would lose their hands.

John quite likes his hands, thank you, and his voice calls out, a whispered yell that carries, "Robin!"

Robin's at a door, staring at the knob, the blood that coats the metal, fresh blood, a person is bleeding, a woman, a small woman, Robin gives one look to John, an apology in his look, because Robin can't let this go, can't leave this blood unfollowed.

John heaves a quiet sigh, he knows his friend, knew it was a fool's errand to try and dissuade Robin from investigating the moment he saw the blood, John joins Robin at the door.

The other side is a washroom, opulent, Robin shakes his head at the rubies that decorate the ornate mirrors, shakes his head at the gilded feet of the huge tub, but the red on the tub, red he mistook for rubies to match the mirrors; he walks closer because it is blood. It takes him four steps to be able to see over the lip of the porcelain tub, and for a moment Robin can only stare, mouth opening, she is beautiful.

John rushes past Robin, bends to check on the figure on her back inside the huge basin, and has to quickly straighten when a golden goblet with diamonds inlaid falls from the top of the overflowing pack on his back, it goes crashing into the tub, CLANG CLANK , as it hits the porcelain edge before landing on the bloody girl.

She lets out a noise at the strike, the goblet hitting her middle before rolling to the side off of her and landing finally with a CLUNK, and Robin thinks again, she is beautiful.

But her gown, white, soft white like the most carefree of clouds, it's soaked with blood at her bottom half, the material clinging to her thighs, smears are at her stomach, there's tiny pearls, rows of them, dangling from the high waist of the gown, but under them is blood, like she'd tried to wipe her hands clean there.

Robin joins John at the side of the tub, his pack off his back before he even knows what he's doing.

Her eyes are open, dark eyes that scream silently in pain, her body trembles, bloody hands lifting and futilely scrabbling at the steep walls of the porcelain prison she'd chosen to lay in, did she hope to wash the blood away? Robin thinks that must be so. Her bleary, uncomprehending eyes, those huge dark eyes in her lovely face, they finally turn to regard John and Robin, her gaze sweeps over them both as they look down at her, and as she studies them Robin kneels beside the tub, his hands clenched on the lip of it after he tries to touch her and she flinches back, cringing back from him, but still with that thoughtful expression on her face.

"M'lady," Robin whispers, because even now he doesn't need unwanted ears hearing him, not when he has a sack of gold beside him, "you're bleeding, what injury have you sustained?"

To get help though, would mean alerting the castle to the presence of two thieves, suddenly Robin understands John's hesitation in following the blood trail.

Sharpening eyes slowly turn down to the goblet that rests beside her, one hand attempting to grab it in the heavy way that speaks of incoordination and there's a head injury, Robin thinks, as she makes a grab for the goblet that is actually inches from her hand. She finally snags it, lifts it and holds it, John dances from foot to foot, grimacing, because punching a tall muscled guard in the face to avoid detection is one thing, but John couldn't stomach hitting a girl that's already looking quite injured, and is quite small, and is quite lovely, but the thought keeps running through his head, the thought that her mouth could open with a shrill cry of 'thieves!', and then it's goodbye hands.

She says exactly that, but it's as quiet as Robin's whisper had been, "Thieves?" she asks.

And John stills, wariness fighting over concern for the stranger they have found, a stranger obviously in need, and every single Merry man is a fool for someone in need, as Robin asks again, "Where are you injured?"

But she tips the golden goblet, her head sinking down to the porcelain, hair dark as anything Robin has ever seen, contrasting sharply against the gleaming white tub, curling about her shoulders and behind her head, it looks to be the softest cushion she could hope for.

"I've seen your faces," she says, eyes closing, her hand suddenly limp, it and the goblet within its grasp falling to the side, Robin snatches at her hand before the goblet can fall and make another echoing noise. The blood is beginning to tack on her skin, at his touch she jolts, eyes opening and cringing further away from them, glare on her face, ice in her dark eyes, "Your faces," the corner of her mouth tips up, incongruous and strange while matched with the glare.

John dances from foot to foot again, restless, head spinning to the door as Robin softly lands the goblet by his knees, "You're bleeding," Robin says, as if the girl isn't aware, her gown is ripped at the neck, a fair amount of her breasts _could_ be seen if either man were inclined to look, John looks enough to see discoloration and swelling at her neck and then promptly turns his eyes away, Robin looks longer, looks lower, fierce hot anger burning in his veins at the sight of her wounded neck, and then she shifts, the frayed edges of the gown revealing more skin and there's a vivid and deep bite at the top of her right breast, blood seeping from the injury.

Bile rises in Robin's throat.

"You'll have to kill me then," she finally concludes, an exhaled breath has her closing her eyes again. There's relief on her face, the urge to touch her, to comfort her, rushes over Robin and he stomps it down, twice he's tried to touch her, she's a stranger, and each time she'd flinched, politeness, honor even, demands that Robin look away from her nakedness, but his eyes burn and burn, staring at that bleeding bite upon her breast.

"We're going to _help_ you," Robin growls, angry, even more so when she breathes out a soft puff of laughter.

"Help me?" she says, in that tub of porcelain, in her ripped gown soaked with blood and clinging to her body, he'd asked her where she was injured, but the blood is at her thighs, her wrists are swelling, Robin can paint the picture for himself easily, it has him blinded with rage. "Then help me," she says, as if it's a joke they have shared, "and set me free," she whispers brokenly, tears escaping from the corners of her closed eyes, she's begging and asking, she's demanding.

"Freedom is what you wish for?" Robin asks, intense and he stands, his knees sore when he rises from them, he lands a hand against either side of the tub, hovering over her form, this stranger, this girl in the castle of the kind King, the stranger covered in blood, she doesn't answer, and he says it again, louder, John whines a warning to be quiet, because they have lingered too long, the pack of gold is heavy on John's back.

"I wanna be free," she says, as if she pictures in her delirious mind being as free as a bird with strong wings, then she's unconscious, limp as her head tilts to the side, her mouth parted softly.

Robin licks his lips, turns to John, and John already knows.

"The gold, Robin!" John says, gesturing at the pack Robin had discarded as soon as he came to her side, "You can't carry both!" then John's hand gestures at her, as if the gold and the girl are both just burdens, as if it is any choice at all.

Robin bends down, lifts her arms softly so they cross over her stomach, and then he gently, gently, an arm behind her shoulders and another under her knees, extracts her from the tub.

"You cannot intend to take her from this place?" John follows as Robin turns and strides towards the door, Robin never once looking back at the bag of gold left behind, the girl is actually lighter than the gold was, in physical weight at least.

"That is exactly what I intend," Robin counters, at his tone John immediately takes a breath, Robin's tone was all scolding, but then it's honest and distraught curiosity in his next words, "Do you truly ask me to choose gold over a life?"

John is shamed, color growing under his fierce beard, but that gold could feed many, that gold could do so much, and what will the girl do, John feels awful thinking it, "Look at the extravagance of her gown, Robin," John tries to make Robin see reason, "she's a noble," John hisses, as if it damns her, "obviously rich and highly valued."

Robin turns, one of her arms slips from over her stomach, it swings lazily in an arc as Robin turns to glare at John, "Oh yes, so highly valued, look at the string of sapphires at her neck, John," he speaks of the bruises quickly forming, and John turns his eyes away, unable to look at the purpling of her smooth skin, "and matching _bracelets_," Robin continues, her swollen red wrist hanging there, lifeless, fingers softly curling.

"She wears a wedding ring," John says as Robin is already turning.

That makes Robin stop, "Is it not wrong of any man, husband or no, to do this," the girl trembles in Robin's, trembles because Robin is shaking he is so angry, "to a woman?" he asks.

John rears back, offended, he has not hurt a woman in all his days.

"She asked for our help," Robin says, his decision made, and he is the leader, his voice is hard and immovable, he's already moving towards the door, "she wants freedom and she will receive it."

John casts one last look at the bag of gold being left behind, he is not strong enough to carry it and the one already on his back, but Robin is right, a life is worth more than gold, but leaving the riches that could feed a village behind still aches.

* * *

"What tom foolery!" a voice calls in the dark, the watcher for the camp, Robin doesn't stop, his arms aching, sweat down his back.

Robin shouts out the completion of passcode, "I wear no jewelry!" he yells, bad tempered and still filled with awful anger, the girls blood on him, "Go," he calls into the woods, "have Friar Tuck ready his herbs, I have a wounded woman."

A rustle, and it must be Simon who runs towards the camp, because the boy has no grace and Robin can hear every branch he slams against until the boy is too far ahead to track by ear.

The men are awake, Simon is panting at Friar Tuck's elbow when Robin and his charge emerge from the trees, the fat man makes the sign of the cross over his chest when the fire illuminates the woman in Robin's arms, there's awful sorrow on the Friar's face as he urges Robin into the largest tent the camp has, Robin's own, actually.

Marian is there, a gentle hand on Robin's straining arm as he passes, but Marian sees the face of the girl, the woman, Robin corrects, in the bright light and warmth of the camp the woman looks to be about Robin's own age, no longer the broken child he'd seen in the dim and cold castle washroom, Marian gasps at the woman's face.

"Oh, god," Marian gasps, Robin can't carry the woman any longer, he calls a concerned query over his shoulder at his wife as he lowers his charge to the bedroll, with Marian beside him he suddenly feels the need to censure his thoughts, but it sits heavy in him, the woman looks beautiful spread out on his blankets.

"Robin, what have you done?" Marian asks, dread crawling up her voice, and when Robin turns his eyes from the woman, tears his eyes violently away because it's the only way to achieve it, Marian has her hands over her mouth, hunched shoulders. He knows his new wife well enough to know she is terrified, terribly so, "That's the Queen," Marian whispers, in shock and in fear.

King Leopold's wife was always said to be beautiful, Robin finds himself thinking, and when he turns to look at her, look at her as Friar Tuck checks her pulse and pulls an eyelid back to see her eyes, Robin can say for a certainty that all the tales are true.

* * *

**damn man, like a whole story came into my head here, like a loooong story, and I'm like uuughhhh**

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	6. Secret Admirer (1 of 4)

Emma has her hands flat on the table, hunched over it and staring down at the surface, at the dozens of scraps of paper strewn there.

"How long has this been going on?" Emma asks, whispering because Snow is holding a sleeping Neal to her chest, holding him with huge frightened eyes as she reads a paper she's plucked from the table, the writing on the scraps is languid cursive, it takes Emma longer to read, she hasn't had to read cursive since, what, like grade three? On one scrap is a flowery description of Regina's mouth, and okay, that's fucking weird, another paper in the pile has the word mouth too, she digs that paper out, and the flowery words are gone, and now it's a vivid in detail description of what the writer would do with Regina's mouth.

"Jesus," Emma hisses, shoving the paper back onto the pile, finally looking up at Regina.

Regina has her hands deep in her pockets, she's still wrapped up in her dark coat, the line of her body is tense, she's got a slightly peeved face on, the one that tightens her mouth, she eyes the pile of papers disdainfully, and finally answers with an overly nonchalant shrug, "Three weeks," she answers.

"Why didn't you say anything? You see Snow every day!" Emma knows exactly why she didn't say anything, at least not to Emma, who is still somehow the Sheriff of this cursed town, because _four_ weeks ago is exactly when Emma fucked up royally and brought Marian from the past, and it wasn't wrong to save a life, but fuck, Emma fucked up. Four weeks ago, three weeks ago, hell maybe yesterday, Regina would have probably rather eaten broken glass then willingly speak to Emma. Four weeks ago is also exactly when the unnatural winter started, so, Emma supposes, a few screwed up love notes could slip through the net, but there has to be at least thirty in the pile, and it seems each one her eyes land on is worse than the one before it.

"It seemed trivial giving what was going on at the time," Regina bites out, "they weren't threatening in the beginning," Regina's defensive, and Emma gives a huge gush of air, because she didn't mean to make Regina defensive, but Jesus Christ, Emma's eyes have found another paper, and this one talks of ripping Regina in half from behind with hands fisted in her hair as she screams and begs, and ew and fuck, Jesus.

"That's the latest one," Regina informs Emma, "it was in my mailbox this morning," her hands still deep in her pockets, and when Emma turns her eyes up Regina has turned her head away.

Snow softly puts the paper in her hand back down on the table, her jaw is tightening and then loosening, her wide eyes growing dark, her fingers twitch, she looks angry enough to kill, the baby in her arms clashes with the deadly expression, "Regina," Snow says in the same tone she uses with Emma sometimes, concerned and motherly.

Regina stomp that whole thing down, "I didn't come here for coddling, nor for sympathy."

Snow seems to accept that, her eyes still hard, glaring down at the letters, and then that glare is on Emma for two seconds before turning away. Regina and Snow were getting along before Emma fucked up, Snow doesn't say it, but it's there in that glare, Snow blames Emma for the loss of whatever wacky relationship step-mother and step-daughter were on their way to building.

"Alright, so," Emma straightens, thinks of making the pile as neat as when Regina had first handed it to her, and decides she can't stand to touch the paper at all, too disgusted by the words on them, she leaves them there, "any idea who they're from?"

"At first, when they were vaguely disconcerting, but overall very complimentary," Regina answers, "I honestly had no idea. Not very many suitors flocking to the Evil Queen, dear."

Emma shifts her weight, and yeah, alright, Emma feels bad that Regina couldn't keep Robin, but they were together for what? Two weeks? Maybe? Part of Emma thinks Regina is completely over reacting about all this shit, and Marian is the guys wife, so just get over it, really.

But Snow said Robin and Regina had _tension_ in the Enchanted Forest, and the way she said tension, waggling those eyebrows that she's suddenly letting grow thick (like that's coming back into style, and it isn't okay), Snow waggled those eyebrows at Emma and Emma isn't an idiot, Robin and Regina were doing the dirty in the missing year, fine, but just because they were knocking boots didn't mean they were meant for each other forever, or some fairy tale bull shit.

But then Emma got called to the Rabbit Hole to deal with a drunk Tink, an angry drunk Tink who got almost violent at the sight of Emma, Tink had screamed with breath reeking of whisky, for the whole bar to hear, that there _was_ a prophecy and Robin and Regina were meant to be together, that they were soul mates, and Emma had lifted her arms, and 'Really?' she'd questioned, a shrill cry to god, because really?

"And now that they aren't so complimentary?" Emma asks, her arms folding over her chest, the latest note called Regina a bitch, as in a 'nasty bitch', 'dirty bitch', and 'fucking bitch', and that's no ones definition of complimentary.

"Well," Regina spread her hands, as if to illustrate her next point, "the list of suspects has grown substantially."

Emma shifts her weight, "Alright, I'll see what I can do for fingerprints, or anything else off the paper," Emma falters as Regina shakes her head, waves her hand and the papers on the desk glow a soft blue before the light fades, "What was that?"

"That was me checking for any fingerprints," Regina answered.

"Were there any?"

Regina has a frown on, lips pursed, "Just yours, Snow's, and my own."

_Ping_ goes the lie detector, Emma's whole face turns down with the force of her displeasure, "Who else?"

Regina sighs, head thrown back to get hair (that wasn't in her face at all) out of her face, the whole hair flip looks like it's straight from a hair commercial, like Herbal Essence or some lame shit, "Henry's, his fingerprints are on four of the letters," Regina answers, licking her lips.

Uuuuhhhhh.

"Why would his fingerprints be on these things?" Emma flings a hand down and lands it on top of the pile.

Regina cringes, making Emma feel like a total dick, then Regina swallows before her gaze leaves Emma's, goes down the letters, "He'd seen me take them from the mailbox, he was interested in knowing what they were. I told him it was private."

"Okay?" Emma questions, because so far she still doesn't see how-

"I found him this morning with them; he'd gone into my room and taken them."

What a little snot, Emma thinks, both proud that her boy doesn't sit on his hands when he needs to know the truth, and appalled that Henry would disrespect someone so badly, horrified that Henry would invade the privacy of his adopted mother in such a way.

"Which ones did he read?" Emma dreads the answer.

And then it's silence from Regina, at least thirty seconds of silence that grows tenser and tenser, and that's an answer all in itself but Emma needs the words, "Which ones did he read, Regina?" she asks again.

"The last four," Regina says quietly, "he was…upset," she licks those painted red lips again.

"Jesus," Emma explodes, the last four are vile disgusting things that talk about fucking Regina and leaving her bleeding and broken, and lots of other messed up shit, like seriously fucked up shit, and Emma thinks, way back in her mind, a seedy little whisper, _this wouldn't have happened in New York._

"He made me promise to get help," Regina continues, hisses it out like Henry had tricked her, a haughty and perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising with clear disdain, "as I hear it you are our Sheriff once again, so here I am."

* * *

Emma sets up surveillance on the mailbox. The letters are being magiced in. Regina can't track it. Gold can't track it.

* * *

The stationary the letters, the letters that are still coming every morning and almost every evening, the paper they are written on has an odd texture. Emma goes to the only stationary store in town, finds out the paper is homemade, the creep makes it himself.

* * *

"My Pardons, Sheriff Swan, wait please," Robin's accented voice asks, hand held gently at Emma's elbow as he jogs to catch her and stop her right before entering Granny's.

Emma's eyes flick fast from right to left, scanning the area behind Robin, frowning when she sees Marian and Roland playing in the snow across the street, unnatural snow that is consuming the town inch by inch, Roland's giggles sharp through the frigid air. "Look, Robin-"

"How is-"

They stop speaking as they overrun each other, Robin smiles, Emma doesn't.

"Look, Robin," Emma starts again, and Regina blames Emma, but fuck that, Emma blames Robin, Robin's the one that didn't go after Regina, Robin is the one playing happy family with his alive again wife, Robin is the one who broke Regina's heart, all Emma did was save a woman, Snow's glares get worse every day, Henry even glares when he thinks Emma isn't looking. Henry doesn't call her 'Mom' anymore.

She's sick of letting this fly. (Snow keeps bringing him up, Henry keeps talking about him, and Tink has taken to following Emma around at least an hour a day to mostly karp at her about how she'd ruined everything. But _he's_ the one that messed Regina up, _he's_ the one that broke her heart, _he's_ the reason why Regina is losing weight, _he's_ the o-)

"You're probably a good guy," Emma says, it comes out dry and sarcastic, "but if you're about to ask me about Regina, then you better turn around."

Robin's face turns from affable to drawn, his features tightening, "There is talk of stalker with ill intent," he says.

"Unless you're here to offer a confession," Emma snarks, maybe hoping that he will confess, because the whole investigation is going nowhere, nowhere fast, the letters turning more and more awful, so awful Regina seems afraid now, before she'd been slightly worried, a little peeved, but there's fear now, the fact that Regina couldn't track the magic used to put those vile letters in her mailbox, it had rattled her badly, "it isn't any of your business."

He rears back, insulted, "I would never hurt her," Robin proclaims, proclaims like it is as true as god, proclaims it so loud Marian across the street turns at his raised voice, Robin waves at her to quell her concerns, and the whole scene has Emma fighting against the urge to roll her eyes.

"What a load of crap," Emma says straight back, angry, and not just at Robin, but at this whole town, filled with sanctimonious fairy tales (her mother one of them, her father one of them), so self-righteous it's a wonder they don't float off the ground because of all their hot air.

She's sick and she's tired, she'd decided not to run to New York, where people are normal and distant and mind their own fucking business, but that doesn't mean Emma is suddenly okay with all these people's attitude.

"Pardon?" he questions, and is he serious?

Emma's face contorts, her nose scrunching up, "Like you didn't stomp all over her heart last month? Throw her to the side like a piece of trash out the window on the highway?"

Robin swallows, takes a step back, "Regina and I-"

"Not my business," Emma holds up her hands, another step towards the diner door, "Just like ongoing police investigations aren't yours."

She turns sharply, enters the diner, and Regina's at the counter with a plate of pancakes before her, Henry smiling at her side, his cheeks full of food, chewing and chewing the mouthful before he swallows and speaks, says something that has Regina smiling softly.

Oh shit, Emma thinks, don't follow me, Robin Hood, please don't fucking follow me.

The diner door dings, Robin's voice, "Sheriff Swan!"

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	7. Jealousy

No one ever said it was a voice in your ear, smooth like silk, a mothers crooning comfort, mothers milk to a starving babe.

Marian fears she's losing her mind

(she is losing her mind)

Because Marian is hearing a voice, soft in her ear, from a breeze that only ever ruffles _her_ hair and no one else's, she can't be imagining that, Marian assures herself, cannot be imagining her hair fluttering by her face as the voice comes to her, so the voice is real, is a friend come to her in this time of confusion (it's not real, it's not real), no one else can hear it, hear that sweet voice, it introduced itself the night Robin told Marian the tale of Marian's death, told Marian of his long mourning, the night he told her his heart had found another, _Jealousy, _the voice purred, introducing itself, Marian felt hands along her back as she lay sleeping with Roland (so much bigger then he should be, long years, but it seems to her only two weeks) in her arms, the foreign sounds of a foreign forest chirping and cricking from the other side of thick canvas.

Marian's first night in Maine, her first night returned to her husband (he would not warm the spot beside her in sleep, he turned away from the kiss she intended for him), was the night Jealousy began whispering in her ear.

_Poor girl. _It said.

Marian clutched Roland tighter and pretended not to hear it, suddenly frightened, desperately wanting Robin beside her, but he was gone to be with the new keeper of his heart, to sooth her and comfort her, as he should be doing Marian. The Evil Queen.

_She's a murderer_. It said, whispered so smoothly, so enticingly.

Marian knew that to be true, but a voice in your mind is madness. Her mother suffered madness and Marian would not suffer the same, would not listen to voices only in her mind and have her life end locked in an attic of an old manor, alone and screaming, as her mother had.

_Darling child_, it says, _the Evil Queen is stealing your family._

Marian fell asleep to its words, clutching Roland tighter, so tight the boy half woke and uttered a sleepy question before lying still once more.

* * *

Robin smiles at Marian, the voice tells Marian he still loves her, and Marian can see it for herself in his eyes, but the love is only half as bright as it had once been. Robin had once looked at her as if she were the sun, as if she was his life, the most treasured thing he could hold, but now the love is only half as bright, half as powerful.

"You're comfortable?" Robin asks, hand cupping Marian's elbow, "I will not push this on you."

"I would meet her," Marian answers, swallows the pain down, pushes and pushes at Jealousy as it screams at her, _SHE'S STEALING YOUR FAMILY_, "I would meet the woman who has stolen the heart of the greatest thief in the land," stolen, stolen, Jealousy screams, _stealing Him from you!_

Robin smiles, the love is dimmed, and his smile stabs like a blunt knife.

When the Evil Queen walks through the door of the diner, the bell ringing as she enters, and no one in the entire place bats an eye, like she is not the monarch that slaughtered villages and held Marian in a dungeon awaiting execution, when she walks in, her strange shoes clicking and clacking against the floor, Robin immediately rises from his seat, his smile growing, and in his eyes is the love meant for Marian, growing to twinkle in his eyes, living in the crinkles of the corner of his eyes, in those charming dimples Marian loves so much.

When Robin raises a hand to the Queens hair, part of their greeting, part and parcel with soft words and soft smiles, they look as if to kiss and both think better of it before they do, but Robin's fingers moving through the silky tresses in the most tender and loving of caress, it has Marian drowning in sorrow, beating against rage and despair.

And that is the first moment Marian lets Jealousy comfort her, _sweet girl, darling, _it says, even as the Evil Queen stands with Robin's arm around her waist, his hand resting at her hip.

_She's the Evil Queen, bitch, homewrecker, she's a whore who stole HIM, we'll get him back to you sweet girl he's yours oh shhhh he's yours your family, NASTY BITCH stole him, she cast a spell on him_

"I'm Regina Mills," the Evil Queen says, a smile that looks genuine and nervous and shy, and all of it leaves Marian unsteady and dazed, the Evil Queen is a beautiful woman, has hope in her, and Marian recognizes that hope, because it used to be hers.

And they sit and drink coffee, and Marian listens to two things at once, Robin and Regina (they sit on one side of the booth together, leaving Marian alone and awkward and cold, Robin you've left me cold, how could you do this, why wou- _she cast a spell on him), _and then there is Jealousy_, _whispering and whispering, ghost of its breath blowing Marian's hair at her back.

* * *

Marian refuses to speak back to Jealousy, it is just a voice in her head (it's real, it's real, it moves Marian's hair) , she will not be like her mother locked in the attic, alone and cold and screaming, tearing at the wallpaper, suffering from madness, but it blurs every day that Marian wakes without Robin beside her, what is madness, what is real, Jealousy comforts her and loves her and says Robin does too, _the witch cast a spell on him, he'll come back to you, I'll get him back to you._

And then it is Robin's turn with Roland, they switch every four days, Marian's sweet boy, who calls her Mama like an angel and whispers 'I love you' so sweetly at every possible opportunity.

She sees them, Robin and Regina , _the witch, the nasty witch_, walking down Main Street, the witch is holding Roland on her hip, Marian's sweet boy, dimples in his darling cheeks, laughing, his sweet giggle ringing through the air, like a ray of sunshine in the grey day, Marian's sweet baby leans in and snuggles to the witch, his little arms wrapped around her neck so, so tightly, and Roland kisses the witches cheek, Robin has his hand in the witch's hair. Marian is frozen, in shock, in rage, Jealousy screaming at her

_STEALING YORU FAMILY THEWIITCH LOOK AT HERSHES STEALING THME she CAST ASPELL ON THE BABY YOUR BABY UOUR BABY_

"Shut up," Marian hisses, slamming her eyes closed. "Shut up," and Jealously does…

at first.

* * *

"shhhh, Roland will hear you," Marian whispers, her back to the boy, slicing up a pear for him.

"Mama," there's tugging on her skirt, Roland's head is at Marian's waist when she turns to look down at him, "who are you talking to?" Roland asks, curiosity in those big brown eyes, _he has your eyes, so beautiful, your baby, such a sweet baby_, _we won't let her take him, will we? She won't take our baby_

Marian puts the knife down on the cutting board, picks up two pear slices instead, and kneels next to her darling baby, "A friend of mine, sweetling," and she hands the slices to him.

"Where are they?" he munches on a pear, a too big bite, and she smiles and ruffles his hair.

"You just missed them," but Jealousy is still at her back, its voice moving her hair, but Roland can't see it, because there's nothing there to see, _but I'm real darling truly you know I am I'm your friend I love you and our baby we'll get Robin back, the witch_-

"But someone told me _you_ made a new friend?" Marian asks, Roland's started pre-school, can already read better than half the Merry Men, and Roland has a new friend just like Marian, "Can you tell me about him, sweetling?"

And he happily eats his pears and speaks about his new friend.

* * *

Robin is spooning the witch, his front to her back in bed, their whole bodies up against each other, their knees tucked up together, his behind hers, his arm around the witch's middle, the pair are sleeping and Marian stands at the foot of the bed watching and watching.

_BREAK THE SPELL JUS KILLS THE WICHT JUST KILHER THE WITHC_

Marian is a better lock pick then Little John, Robin had taught her, Robin had taught her everything he knew of thievery, how to make your feet light as a feather, how to melt into the dark.

Marian has a knife in her hand. Jealousy had handed it to her with a smile, _we'll get your family back today, tonight, right now, they'll be sleeping_

The pair are breathing softly, they're naked in the bed together, a loose sheet doing nothing to hide their bodies, the witch has a beautiful body, curves and softness and Robin's fingers grasp at her middle and pull her closer with a sigh, nuzzling his nose against the back of her neck. Robin will wake up free of the spell, appalled that he'd shared his lust with the witch, and Marian will forgive him.

"I'm doing it, shut up," Marian hisses, but Jealousy doesn't stop screaming, screaming screaming screaming

Marian's hands fly up, mindful of the knife but she still claws at her own hair, the witch –Regina- she's sleeping, breathing softly, her face soft and her hair like silky night as Robin nuzzles her again, and they both look so peaceful there, happy together and Roland is sleeping down the hall, Marian had checked on him, the boy is sleeping in a huge soft bed in a room designed just for him. And the other boy, the witch's boy, Regina's boy, he's sleeping too, Marian had opened his door, had looked at the lanky child sprawled on his stomach softly snoring, Regina is a mother too-

_SHES A WITHC JUST A WITCH stealing your HUSBAND_

Marian lowers her hands, her hands are shaking, she is shaking all over, she steps around to Regina's side of the bed, Regina's naked body has a strip of moon light on it, a slant in the curtains, enough light to kill her by,

Regina's pregnant belly, curved under Robin's hands, naked the belly is easily seen, so happy, the witch looked so happy, so happy when she spoke of it, Robin so happy he looked close to tears, the baby is due in October,

Roland is so excited for a brother or a sister, he wants a sister desperately so he can protect her like a Knight should,

Maybe Marian can cut the baby out, maybe it could live outside the witch and Robin won't lose his child, but the baby is half hers, it's not Marian's, it should be Marian's, but Marian could love it like her own, a sweet tiny baby, she'll cut it out and Robin will wake from the spell and thank her for saving the baby from the witch

"Marian, what are you doing?" Marian flinches, her feet rooted there on Regina's side of the bed, the knife is raised inches from the witch's belly, Robin's voice cuts quietly through the air, Jealousy screaming and screaming but Marian can hear Robin clearly, "Marian, put down the knife, please, Marian," and Marian turns her eyes up to look at Robin's face, she keeps the knife over the belly, over Regina's smooth skin, her soft skin that will cut like butter.

Regina still breathes softly in and out, so soft, the witch looks so soft, Robin's arms have tightened on the witch, his face is hard, and it's the spell the witch has cast on him that has him so protective of the witch

"I'm here to save you," Marian tells him, smiles at him, and Jealousy screams and screams, and Marian hisses over her shoulder, "Be quiet."

Robin moves, as if to sit up and Marian watches him do it, as he crawls over Regina's body Marian has to back up or else risk cutting him, but she could never hurt Robin, "Marian, who are you speaking too?"

"No one," Marian shakes her head.

"Marian," Robin climbs from the bed, his hands upraised, his body naked, standing between the knife and the witch with his baby in her belly, the witch has her eyes open, her breathing is no longer soft and deep, quick things, one of her hands over her barely rotund belly, Regina stays silent. "Marian," Robin keeps saying her name, it helps drown out Jealousy, "Marian, please put the knife down, please, Marian," but the witch is still alive, "We'll get you through this, Marian, remember how we got through it before, the voices aren't real, Marian, come back to me, please."

_KILL HER KILL HER THE WITCH STOLE HIM HE'S YOURS ROLAND YOUR BABY OUR BABY_

The witch is still alive, is pulling herself up sitting, both hands on her belly, she's scooting towards the other side of the bed, away from Marian, her wide eyes reflect the moon light. She looks afraid. The Evil Queen looks afraid, Regina, she's a mother too, pregnant with Robin's child-

_A WITCH A WITCH WITCH WITHC WITHC WIHCTWITHCWITCH_

When Marian moves towards Regina again, and Marian is muttering 'shut up, shut up', something dangerous comes into Robin's eyes, his whole body changes, no longer placating, and he is far taller than Marian, far stronger than Marian, and he grabs her wrist, the wrist attached to the hand that holds the knife and he twists so hard the knife clatters to the ground and Marian cries out.

And then she is screaming, and screaming and screaming

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	8. Mutilated (1 of 4 )

**authors note, if lesbian sex and threesomes are not your thing, you should probs head to the figurative door**

"Tell me you want me," Regina says, an order, not something to be disobeyed even if she issues it naked and sweating from between Marian's thighs, especially not then. "Tell me," Regina says again, because she needs to hear it, hear that she is wanted, even if it's from the wrong mouth and for the wrong reasons, even if it is all _wrong_.

"Yes, please," Marian begs, on her back with her legs splayed, Regina watches, satisfaction and bitterness both growing as Marian writhes on Regina's plush sheets, "please, Your Majesty, please," the words spill from Marian's mouth over and over, and this is the fourth time Regina has had Marian in this position, wanting and wild, bare and wet and begging, and this time Regina only thinks for a second of leaning forward and wrapping her hands around Marian's slender neck, her strained neck that's slick with sweat. The first time Regina had Marian like this she'd done more than think of it, she'd done it, three fingers up inside Marian, thumb working her clit, Regina had leaned forward and wrapped her free hand around the other woman's throat, squeezed and squeezed, until Marian came hard on her fingers, and Regina let her go.

"Where's Robin?" Regina asks, mumbling the question against the supple flesh of Marian's breast, before biting down, hard enough to mark, because Marian deserves to be marked, because she's not just Robin's anymore, no, not when Regina puts the index and middle fingers of her right hand up into Marian's mouth and Marian immediately sucks them and wraps her tongue around them before Regina trails the spit covered digits in a wet trail down Marian's cheek, to her neck, to her collar.

"Tracking, ahhh," Marian gasps, her delicate hands landing in Regina's hair, tentatively gripping at the silken strands, and Regina wonders if Marian knows how well Robin loved Regina's hair, "he's tracking the ice witch," Marian answers.

The ice witch, yes, of course, but Regina warms her house with magic and doesn't care at all about the tacky bitch in blue bedazzle, because Henry is safe, and Roland too, "And you're here," Regina says, a grin grows on her face, but it's empty, it's empty and hollow, Marian cringes at that grin, it's the Evil Queen's grin, "with me," Regina moves her lips back to Marian's, Regina kisses Marian with her eyes open, even as Marian's close softly, as Marian moans at the feeling of Regina's hands touching and gripping and bruising, how does Marian explain the bruises to her husband? The perfect finger sized bruises that pepper Marian's skin after every touch Regina gives?

Regina pulls her face away, watching and watching, Marian's mouth gapes open in a soft 'o' of surprise, it happens every time, every time Regina's fingers first enter her. each. and. every. time.

"Does Robin touch you like this?" Regina asks, watching and watching as Marian's nose scrunches up, as her eyes close tighter, there's no answer spilling from her mouth, just little pants and with every pump of Regina's fingers there's a soft cry.

"Does he?" Regina asks this each time, and she gets her answer eventually. each. and. every. time.

Marian's cry becomes sharp as Regina fucks her harder, Marian's breasts bounce with each thrust, Regina watches them absentmindedly, Marian has larger breasts then Regina, this isn't the first time Regina has noticed, and she knows Robin must know it too, seeing as he had Regina's cupped in his hands as he fucked her from behind and came inside her groaning only two hours before welcoming his wife into his waiting arms.

Regina pulls her fingers from Marian, her thumb leaving Marian's clit, her fingers are coated with the evidence of Marian's depravity, of her betrayal, and it's so, so, so, funny, isn't it, that Robin will stand by Marian as the faithful husband, won't touch Regina, nor look at her for fear of his will not being strong enough, nor be in the same room as her, but Robin's wife will come knocking on Regina's door begging to be fucked.

She'd knocked on Regina's door the first time to tell Regina to not come near her family, to keep away, to call Regina a monster, yelling and yelling like a fool, a fool who didn't even realize how close she was to death, and Regina had let her yell and yell, until very suddenly Regina had shut her up, shut her up with a violent kiss, because Marian was pretty, and sex was sex with man or woman, and at the beginning, well, Robin had hurt her, and one thing Regina, good or bad or hero, one thing Regina had always craved was fairness, so Regina was going to hurt him back.

Marian had been surprisingly easy to seduce.

"Tell me how he fucks you," Regina whispers, Marian is moaning at the loss of Regina's ministrations, she opens her dark eyes and whimpers as she watches Regina lick her own fingers clean.

"He's gentle," Marian answers, she always answers eventually.

Gentle, Regina kisses Marian, but that word spins in her head, he's gentle with his wife, easy and loving and gentle, "Do you know how he fucked me?" Regina asks, her lips hovering over Marian's as she draws only slightly back, Marian is panting, puffing hot breath across Regina's face and watching Regina with wide lovely eyes that only grow wider as Regina pushes three fingers as deep into Marian as their position allows, "Just like this," Regina snarls, landing her forehead on Marian's, watching and watching the pleasure and something that looks deliciously like hatred dance across Marian's face, "Hard and fast," Regina says, "Does it hurt?" because he had, the first time they'd been together he'd fucked her so hard she'd been sore for days after, and she loved every minute of it, he'd growled in her ear and tested how wet she was before he had a hand on his cock to line himself up and then he'd shoved his length into her in one excruciating thrust, but he'd stilled at Regina's sharp cry and her fingernails scrabbling at his shoulders.

He had stopped and calmed himself and waited for Regina to tell him, with clear words, that she was alright and ready to keep going, waiting inside of her as she clenched and fluttered around him.

Regina doesn't stop at Marian's cry, but Marian under Regina is not the quivering mess Regina had been under Robin, because Regina had not had a sexual partner since Graham, Robin's cock had left Regina panting and shaking, Regina's fingers leave Marian gasping and rocking her hips wantonly.

"No, it doesn't hurt," Marian says.

Regina wants it to hurt, at the same time that she doesn't, she watches, her face blank as she pumps her fingers, as she works Marian's clit.

She enjoys Marian. Marian is pretty, and the more they fuck (Regina fucks Marian, Marian has tried and been denied the right to fuck Regina, Regina brings Marian to orgasm over and over, and then has Marian watch as Regina brings herself to orgasm too, Marian's fingers twitch watching Regina play with her own clit, Marian always watches so enraptured) the more Marian is amendable to Regina spending time with Roland, Marian with Roland and Regina with Henry had met and ate lunch at the diner yesterday, they had pretended it was coincidence, had pretended they hadn't agreed to a time and a place, that it was happenstance that Robin was not with his wife and son.

Sweet Roland, he has Marian's eyes, Roland had thrown his arms around Regina's neck and clung on, refused to let go, Regina had picked him right up off the floor and hugged him tightly as his little legs wrapped around her, as he sat comfortable on her hip. Regina hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, but when she'd opened them it was to the sight of Marian smiling, turmoil churning in those wide dark eyes she'd so graciously given Roland, Marian looked at Regina strange and Regina remembered the first time Marian had come to her, screaming shrilly, 'Stay away from my family, witch!' Marian had screamed before Regina had kissed her and fucked her and marked her, and Marian still had that fury in her eyes as she watched Roland chatter and sit comfy and warm in Regina's embrace.

"He adores you," Marian had said, as they sat and watched Henry try and teach Roland to play darts, though he himself had terrible aim and a very loose idea of how the point system worked.

"Yes, he does," Regina had agreed, because she knew it for the truth, and a flare of bitterness had her wanting to gouge something more permanent then claw marks and bruises into Marian.

"Robin still loves you," Marian said after a moment.

That would have been enough to have Regina cry, if she weren't in a public place with people she did not trust nor care for, if she was weak and let her emotions show so easily, if she hadn't torn out her heart weeks ago and locked it in the safe under the desk in her study.

Regina turned her head from the boys, slow and steady, ever regal, turning her head to look at Marian, and she found a pair of wide eyes looking right back at her, "Good," Regina said, because love was weakness, love made you weak, his love would destroy him just as well as it had destroyed her, and it had destroyed her. Mutilated her, and he hadn't even had to try.

Marian is close to orgasm, she makes a noise in the back of her throat when she is close, the noise always turns into a cry of Regina's name as Marian climaxes, as she shakes and screams and gasps, riding Regina's fingers until she can't take it anymore and pushes Regina off.

She doesn't reach orgasm before the door to the bedroom is kicked open, splinters of wood flying through the air and Regina flings up a hand without thought, all her weight falling on Marian as Regina raises a shield, a visible bubble of thin purple.

Robin's face is twisted in fury and darkness and turmoil and every single thing Regina would be feeling if she had her heart in her chest, but it's not in her chest, no, it's in Robin's hand, thump thumping, uselessly thudding against his palm. It's almost comical, the face he makes as he sees who exactly Regina is on top of, on top of naked and sweaty with hair mussed, with the room reeking of sex.

"Robin!" Marian says, scuttling out from under Regina and gathering a sheet to cover herself, as she stands Regina feels it, feels it in her chest, she cries out, fingers digging to the left of her sternum as she's crumpling to the bed. Robin is squeezing her heart; she can feel his fingers around it, squeezing and squeezing.

And then the pain is gone.

Regina is left panting and shaking on the bed, recovering from the worst pain she's felt in her life, and she has felt many kinds of pain. She thinks of Graham, and how much pain he'd died in, but regret comes hard with no heart inside you, when you've locked up your soul deep inside you.

"Regina," it is Robin's voice, "are you alright? Regina, I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt you, I forgot what was in my hand, Regina," he sounds frightened, but he's lying, of course he is lying, he won't be able to breach the bubble; his voice comes through it muffled.

"What happened?" Marian's shrill and loud from inside the bubble, but her voice comes from as far from the bed as she can get.

"Her heart-"

"Her heart?!"

Their voices go back and forth, there's exactly zero motivation for Regina to make any effort to open her eyes, and she's stopped listening to them, because she still can't catch her breath.

Marian's fingers against her neck are a surprise, two fingers checking for a pulse, "Your Majesty? Robin, it's weak," Marian is saying, shrill, she's so shrill, so…she's so

"Regina!?" Robin's hands cup her face, warm, he's so warm, always so warm, the bubble, how'd he get through the bubble, his breath is on her face, Regina can't open her eyes, her body jostling around, his hands are warm, "Regina, no, stay wi-"

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	9. Mutilated ( 2 of 4 )

It was the way she smiled at Henry that first told Robin something was very, very wrong, but _everything_ was very, very wrong as of late, so he watched and did nothing, nothing as she gave her son an empty smile that did not quite reach her eyes. Her and her son walked down the street thick in their coats, the boy reaching out a gloved hand for his mother's and that's when she smiled at Henry, smiled the empty smile. Neither Regina nor Henry noticed Robin's scrutiny, her focus entirely on the child, and the child's focus entirely on not slipping on the ice at his feet.

It was Marian that pulled Robin's attention away from that empty expression on Regina's face, her hand on Robin's arm as she slipped on the very ice Henry was so deftly avoiding just across the street. When next he got the opportunity to turn his eyes back to Regina, only moments later, both mother and son were gone, gone, but the ache inside Robin remained, piercing and painful, her smile had been _wrong_.

But everything was wrong, wasn't it?

Marian alive and whole and lovely, that was wrong just as much as it was miraculous.

Robin choosing his wife, choosing his wife over Regina, that was wrong too, just as much as it was honorable.

Marian is having an affair, and that's wrong, but everything has been wrong for months, and Robin swings from uncaring to desperately sad when confronted with the finger sized bruises on his wife's hips and thighs, but never is he enraged, there was a time he would have shaken Marian and screamed at her in a jealous rage until she told him the other man's name, and then he would have killed whoever thought they could touch his wife.

But that time is gone.

It's gone, and Robin thought he could bring it back, and he had been wrong. He'd held his wife in his arms the first night of her return, alive, she was alive and whole, he'd bring their happiness back…but Regina had already dug herself deep in him, he'd helped her at every turn, helped her as she burrowed deeper and deeper, burrowing. He'd come to learn, spent months trying and failing before he learned, that happiness with Marian was impossible with Regina tearing at his skin from the inside.

Robin did love his wife. He'd made a vow to Marian. What other decision could he have made? (Regina, he could have chosen Regina)

Robin chose his wife, Robin said goodbye to Regina only hours after having her on her hands and knees, only hours after running his hand down her spine as she slammed herself back onto his cock, only hours after murmuring an unheard 'I love you' into the air as she drove herself to orgasm, shaking under Robin's hands. Robin had left her teary with the same spine he'd caressed held impossibly straight, "She's your wife," Regina told him the day after Marian's return, her voice hollow, heartbreak in her beautiful eyes, she was so angry though, spitting out the word wife, like it was simple for him. But Regina lived and breathed under his skin, he was a fool to try and cut her out, left himself bloody and miserable…with an unfaithful wife.

The empty smile he saw on Regina's face haunts him for days, dancing in his mind, empty and aching and sad, the first glimpse he'd had of her in weeks, and he doesn't know how he knows (but he does know how he knows), he knows Regina has torn out her own heart (he knows because they are soul mates, connected by a deeper magic then True Love). But she's done more than that, because he has seen her with no heart before and she had still _felt_ and _loved _with no heart, she had loved enough to break a curse and cast white magic, she has done more than just remove her heart, and the fear of what exactly else she has done has Robin fighting the urge to stomp to her house and find her and shake her and demand to know what she's done to herself.

He has no right to her, he knows that. He'd chosen another woman over her, he'd left her close to tears, he had not spoken to her since the day he stomped all over her trust.

It's not his place to scold her, he knows that. She's a Queen, a royal even if she no longer wears a crown nor sits upon a throne, she's a grown woman too, not a child to have her knuckles rapped.

She is not his, he knows that. She's not his.

And Marian still accepts his kisses, even as she wears the mark of another on her skin, he still kisses his wife though his thoughts are of Regina, even as he thinks what a terrible mistake he'd made in choosing Marian.

He fights against the urge to go to Regina for three days, fights the urge to scream at her, to hold her, to cherish her and shake her, he fights the urge. It's a fight he loses, loses spectacularly.

The walk to her house is silent, the air puffing from his lungs, puffing in the cold, a harsh wind turning his cheeks and the tip of his nose a bright red. The winter witch has frozen the landscape, and Robin's own actions, his own foolish decisions that were wrong the moment he made them, his own actions have left him just as lonely and cold as the forest he walks through. Her house is dark but for one solitary light shining from her bedroom window, but Robin goes to her back door to pick the lock anyway; she sometimes falls asleep with the light on, often actually.

It's a surprise, not an appreciated one, to discover the door is not even locked. The door swings open without a whisper, Robin slips inside without a sound, silence makes a good thief, and Robin is silent in his footsteps, he's silent standing in Regina's kitchen, because he is a _very_ good thief. Regina's kitchen gleams in the moonlight that shines through the spotless windows, it looks frighteningly foreign to him, this whole world still looks foreign to him at times, unreal, this gleaming kitchen, shrouded in darkness with the time displaying in lime green from the stove, this kitchen seems so strange. (He thought this house could be a home, had imagined Roland running about the halls in sock clad feet, slipping and squealing in laughter).

He takes one step into Regina's house, one step, is he going to her bedroom to confront her? To comfort her (he wants to hold her badly, feel again the soft curves of her body under his hands, the wild untempered heat of her)? To choose her after all this wasted time? After already choosing another, would she even take him now? He hasn't even left Marian, doesn't know if he plans to do so. What is he even doing here; he wants to tear at his own hair for all his stupidity and his stupid honor, all his decisions that have led him here, here, alone in a foreign and alien kitchen, lonely and cold with a son that asks for a woman that is not his mother ("I WANT REGINA!" the boy yells, screams more and more often, 'so do I', Robin thinks but never ever says), Robin is lonely and cold with a wife that lies to him with every kiss. He takes one step, the decision to find Regina's heart first before anything else made as his foot lands…and that's when he feels it.

There's a pull inside him, tugging him across the tile, tugging him to the hall, his footsteps swallowed by the thick cream carpet. He hears it as if from deep underwater, thump thump, repeating an even beat, her heart, he can hear it, pulling him and tugging on him.

He passes doors, passes rooms filled with darkness, still in silence but for the thump thumping that only he can hear. Through a doorway, into a dark paneled room, standing before a hard wood desk, and then down to the balls of his feet before a metal box that he is sure is meant to stop thieves such as himself. He doesn't fight the pull, doesn't fight as his hand rises as if controlled by a puppeteer, as he taps in numbers on a pad that beeps high pitched beeps ('It's not magic,' Regina told him once, laughing with her eyes twinkling as he jumped away from the thing she called a television, 'it's technology,'), until there's a clunk and the thick metal box opens.

It's waiting for him, her heart, resting atop a pile of papers, crammed between two velvet boxes.

Her heart is small, last time he'd held it in his hand it had glowed brightly red from under the black, it had shined from underneath the darkness…it no longer shines. The fear pulls Robin taut as he reaches forward and cradles up the heart, the heart is faded, not red, nor black, but faded, its sickly grey, and it is _terrifying_, even more so as the heart shudders at his touch, a sickly unnatural shudder akin to the death throes of a small animal.

Robin rubs at his face, licking his lips, holding the heart in one hand as he falls on his ass from his crouch, the strings holding him up, the strings that had him type the numbers into the strange pad, suddenly the strings are gone, and with them goes all the strength Robin thought he had. Robin leans to the side, his shoulder slumping against the desk; her heart thump thumping in his hand, the heart is cold. It's grey.

"What have you done," Robin whispers, his words for Regina, and for himself, the sight of the small heart has blood thundering in his ears, an acute headache slithering behind his eyes, it has him out of breath and very near to panic.

No, not _near_ panic, Robin is _entirely_ in panic, he shoots up, no longer caring for the noise he makes as he pelts out through the dark house, rushing through the hall, turning and colliding with the wall as he grabs at the banister and scrambles up the stairs, but panic is making room for rage, it comes at the sight of the shriveled organ dumped and left crammed in a small metal tomb. Regina had done it, whatever _it_ is, she'd done it to herself (because of him, because of Robin, this beautiful and resilient woman and he had shattered her and walked away from the pieces as they scattered about the ground), she had done this, her heart is so cold it's burning his hand as he clutches it, she is stronger than this, Robin thinks, he seethes; she doesn't _get_ to do this, not when Roland still asks for her, not when Henry craves her company and her love, not when Robin can still feel her clawing at him from the inside.

Her door is closed, the time it would take to reach for the knob seems too long, and he knows that when the bedroom door is closed that it is also locked, he raises his foot without thinking, snarl on his face, because _how could she do this_, he kicks the door in, it's a weak door, it's a good kick, it swings open, throwing splinters as the jam around the lock gives way, the door crashes against the wall, the knob striking so hard it leaves a hole.

Everything stutters…

It's all a blur.

They are naked.

His wife. And Regina. Naked.

What….his eyes move fast between them, settle on Marian as she tries to wrap a sheet about herself.

_Marian_…

It's not till Regina is screaming and thrashing on the rumpled sheets that any semblance of coherency comes back to Robin, the heart in his hands, the cold, grey heart, he's squeezing it, his fingers white with the force he's using, he drops it with a gasp, he steps away from it, steps away from where it's landed like a rock on the floor.

Oh no, no, no, Robin stares at the heart, then back up to Regina.

"Regina! Are you alright?" she's clearly not, Robin steps towards the bed, pressed tightly against the purple field she'd flung up, when had she done that, he doesn't know, she just lying there, panting and naked, her chest heaving, her eyes closed, "Regina, I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt you," Robin has no eyes for Marian now, Marian has begun to cry, Regina is still frighteningly unresponsive, god, what had he done, "I forgot what was in my hand, Regina!"

"What happened?" Marian sobs, securing the sheet about her breasts with one hand, the other out towards Robin as if seeking his comfort.

"Her heart-"

"Her heart?!" Marian echoes, panting near as hard as Regina, Regina still curled on her side on the bed, Regina's eyes still closed.

Robin turns sharply, stoops and snatches up the organ he'd squeezed without meaning to, the sight of Regina naked and on top of someone else had him fisting his hands, a vein near bursting in his neck from pure, absolute rage, even before he saw it was Marian, "Robin," Marian says, a desperate and pleading tone, "I'm so sorry," she says.

"Check on her," Robin answers her pleading apology with, one hand cradling Regina's heart and the other held palm flat against the flickering purple shield, when Marian shakes her head instead of moving Robin screams it again, "Check her, Marian!" he yells.

It's enough to have Marian flinching, sobbing, finally headed back to the bed she'd just been arched on, Marian lifts one knee to the mattress and leans close enough to Regina to check her pulse, there's no hiding the tenderness in her touch as she rests fingers against Regina's neck, and Robin's blood _boils_, Regina is his to touch, his to caress, _his_, Regina is _his_.

"Your Majesty?" Marian asks, still clutching that ridiculous sheet around herself. "Robin, it's weak," Marian calls, panic of her own now growing, do they care for each other, Regina and his wife, Robin finds himself wondering before the terror those words bring fully realize.

"No," Robin slams the palm of his hand against the purple field, "goddamn it!" he cradles Regina's small sick heart against his chest, against where his own heart is thundering, he slams his hand against the field again, a fist now, again and again and again, until his knuckles are bleeding and broken, "damn it!"

Marian is screaming at him to stop.

There are cracks forming in the field though.

He can't stop. Blood runs freely down his arm as he slams his fist again and again, blood runs over the lion crest inked forever in his skin, the tattoo that means he belongs to Regina. Looking at her, unmoving but for her panting breaths, unresponsive, her eyes closed, it comes rushing on him all at once, Robin cannot live without her.

The field shatters in his face, shards of purple magic like glass flinging into his face, cutting him, there's blood _everywhere_.

Two running steps and Robin makes it to the bed, pushing Marian away from Regina with his shoulder, Marian nearly falls off the bed, the sheet around her body slips free as she uses both her hands to make a grab for the headboard. "Regina, no, stay with me, Regina!" Robin pleads, his bloody hand cupping her face, the other still wrapped around her heart, he's screaming at her, but she's already gone limp. Naked and limp on the bed, on her back now, her skin flushed under his hand.

"Find her phone," Robin says, it's a shout over his shoulder to Marian. Regina needs more then he can give, needs a healer, no, they are called doctors here. A carriage with a siren, a, ah, -ambulance will come, you have to dial 911, Regina had told him, had taught him how to dial the numbers, 'if Roland is ever hurt,' she'd told him.

"Her," Marian is stuttering, "her phone? What is-"

"Her cell phone, Marian! The thin little box that speaks!" Robin turns to look at his wife, his hand still cupped on Regina's cheek, he's getting his blood on her, on her rumpled sheets and pillows.

"I, -alright," Marian shrinks back from his look, from the anger in his eyes, shrinks back, grabbing at the sheet again, holding it against herself as she leaves the bed.

"Regina," Robin whispers, leaning down to her, looking at her lovely face covered in sweat, "come back to me," he pats her cheek, thinks for a moment of putting her heart back where it belongs, but the heart is sick, sick and cold and grey, he doesn't dare.

Robin collapses, holds his weight off Regina as best he can as he tucks his face against the crook of her neck, his arm wraps around her, under her back, he curves her up closer to him, breathing in the stink of sweat and sex that clings to her skin, her heart is cold against his fingers, but there's a fire of a fever burning on her skin.

He has done this to her.

"Robin," Marian says, Regina's phone held awkwardly in her hand, held out to Robin.

"Get dressed," he growls, only moving enough to snatch the phone from her hand, Marian's lips are pinched, looking down at Regina held against Robin. Robin can't decipher the emotion on Marian's face, but that's not the truth, because it's jealousy on her face, jealousy, "Put your clothes on!" he thunders, and Marian flinches, her nose screwing up, her eyes narrowing before she finally moves away and starts gathering her clothes, her clothes strewn across the floor, thrown there.

He remembers Regina's lesson, he brings the screen to life, he dials the numbers Regina had taught him.

* * *

**authors note, well here ya go, some feelings and what not**

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	10. Secret Admirer (2 of 4)

The diner door dings, Robin's voice, "Sheriff Swan!"

Emma cringes, her shoulders hunch and she watches as if waiting for a bomb to go off (she is waiting for a goddamn bomb to go off, the bomb is wearing five inch heels and sitting at the counter, fuck damn damn da-)

Regina's entire body goes rigid, for a moment Emma can see her profile, can see the way her mouth opens in soft surprise at Robin's voice, and then just as quickly her mouth snaps shut, Regina ticks her head, hides her features behind a curtain of dark hair, her fork held in a death grip, syrup dripping from the soggy bite of pancake for a second before the bite slips off the prongs of the utensil, the bite splats back onto the plate.

Henry turns sharply to look at the door, to look at Robin and Emma, glaring, god he looks like Regina when he purses his mouth like that, man, that's uncanny, Henry's eyes stab Robin before turning to Emma with a clear head tilt that couldn't more plainly say 'get him OUT of here'. Emma nods at Henry, is already turning with herding arms to _push_ Robin out the door he's just come through, _throw_ him out if she needs to.

"Regina?" Robin asks softly, looking at Regina's rigid back over Emma's shoulder, either too consumed at the sight of her to heed the very clear 'leave my mom alone' message that Henry is sending with his burning eyes or uncaring of the wrath of a preteen boy. He pushes past Emma's arm, no heat to the gesture; he just sweeps her arm aside and walks forward. The entire diner is silent, and when Emma turns to survey the scene she sees everyone wearing the same wide eyed expression that is probably on her own face, they're all eyeing Regina, looking at her stiff back.

Emma jumps, she's not the only one, when Regina spins the stool around, Robin had been reaching for her back, he doesn't hesitate at all though, keeps his hands momentum, he ends up with one hand bracing himself against the counter, the other hand has his palm against Regina's stomach, lying flat right under her breasts and Emma feels almost as though she should turn away, the touch, the closeness, the way his fingers smooth along the silk of the blouse, pressing in against her, it is intimate in a way she can't describe.

Regina sucks in a breath through her teeth, her face cold, "Get your hand off me," she says quietly, it's an order that would have had anyone else's hands off her in a second, but Robin shakes his head.

"So you may once more run from me?" he asks, and Regina's mouth snarls up for a second, before the expression melts away with a shake of her head. Emma follows in the man's footsteps, walking until she's standing by Henry on his stool, the kid has wild eyes glaring at the hand Robin had refused to move, Henry looks like he might leap on Robin, Emma puts a calming hand on Henry's shoulder. He shakes it off without looking.

"Hey," Henry barks, he still looks uncertain, like he's trying to be brave, the entire goddamned restaurant looks to Henry, Robin looks at him for the first time, "my mom said _get off_," Henry says, his voice cracks, his scowl deepens, he shoots from his seat, pushing at Robin's arm viciously, shoving it from where it had been on Regina.

"_Henry,"_ Regina's says, and when _she_ reaches out to Henry, the kid accepts her comfort. Regina keeps her hands on the kid's shoulder as she stands, Robin doesn't move or back up an inch, caging Regina in with one hand against the bar, the other returns to his side, his fingers twitching, Emma turns her head minutely, enough to spy Ruby at the end of the counter, half in, half out of the kitchen, she's whispering to Granny, who comes barreling from the kitchen just as Emma turns back to look at Robin as he speaks.

"Regina," Robin says, he takes a step closer, as if their conversation is suddenly private with that step, his voice lower, frowning as his brows crinkle together, "let me speak-"

"You've already said all that needs to be said," Regina cuts him off, one hand still on Henry's shoulder, the other rises and splays across Robin's chest, when she pushes he moves without protest, moves back until she can walk past him without any part of her body touching any part of his body.

Robin shakes his head almost violently, reaching for Regina's arm as she walks away, and Emma doesn't know if Robin's the type to manhandle, but she's seen too many men grab and haul women half their size, Emma rests her hand on his wrist to stop him. She steps between Regina, the kid and her walking fast toward the door, and Robin, he looks down at Emma with a frown, his jaw tightening. Emma doesn't see Marian walk in, only hears the ding of the bell and then someone (god was that Leroy?) gasp like it's a soap opera playing right before their very eyes, Robin's eyes widen, his frown turning into a desperate 'o' of something that looks a lot like dread.

Emma whips around in time to see Marian slap Regina straight across the face.

"MARIAN!" Robin thunders, dashing forward.

Henry lets out a startled cry.

Leroy gasps again, a huge inhale of breath that sounds absurd, but Emma's no better, rushing forward and putting herself between Marian and Regina and Regina and Robin, Henry's cry had something hot and instinctual running through Emma's blood, she's standing with arms outstretched, standing in front of Regina like the fucking white knight Henry always thought she was. Robin is furious, mouth screwed up as he tries to reach around Emma to touch Regina, Emma swats at his hand. Marian looks shaken and shocked, looking down at her hand like she can't believe she'd actually struck the woman she still steadfastly refuses to call anything but the 'Evil Queen', "Stay- stay away from my husband," Marian utters, her voice shaking.

"Why don't _you_ stay away from _her_, huh?" Granny growls from behind the counter, leaning over it with shoulders hunched, she looks like the wolf she was, she looks ready to pounce, "Hands keep to their selves in this fucking establishment!" Granny snarls, turning to the wider audience before turning back to Marian, and Marian takes a dutiful step back, thudding against the glass of the diner door.

Where'd she leave her kid? Emma wonders, but has other things to make a priority, like whether the fire extinguisher behind the bar is up to code or not.

There is fear in the air, thick like smoke, it's in Emma too, wondering what Regina will do in retaliation, shit if someone slapped Emma like that there would be hell to pay, but when Emma turns slightly to look at Regina, expecting to find rage and indigence, she finds only blankness, the cold features on Regina's face have stayed exactly the same. Emma's fear leeches away, sinks down into the mire as concern bubbles up, thick and cloying and unexpected, concern washes over Emma as Regina raises a hand to her burning red cheek, Regina is just staring off, laying her hand against the mark that's gonna bruise.

"Mom?" Henry's squeaks, he sounds close to tears, upset, he's got a hand fisted in Regina's blouse, his mom just got fucking bitch slapped right in front of him, Emma sees red, she turns back to Marian, the woman cringes, looks from Henry to Emma, then finally to Robin.

"It's alright, honey," Regina says, the endearment soothes Henry a fraction, the way Regina pulls him in against her side probably does a lot too, and then it's purple smoke burning Emma's eyes, clogging up her nose, coughing as she waves a hand to clear the air.

Regina is gone, she'd taken Henry with her.

"Why would you do such a th-"

"She's _stealing_ you fro-"

Robin and Marian don't yell, they fight in heated whispers, the diner is silent though, every one of these gossipers leaning forward to hear. Emma is not one for subtly, she turns and stands, watches the furious bickering.

"-it her, in front of her bo-"

"-her, why her, Robin, how cou-"

"Doesn't give you the ri-"

So things aren't as sunshine as they looked, _good_, Emma thinks before she cuts into the conversation. She stomps between husband and wife, swiping at the coat rack and grabbing at Henry and Regina's coats, coats they'd left behind, Emma doesn't even wanna begin to imagine the kind of face she's making, it's probably not pretty, Marian cringes once again. "You ever pull that kind of shit in front of my son again," Emma leans in and says, snarling, remembering Henry's horror, his eyes close to tears, "and I'll break your fucking hand."

Marian's mouth opens in shock as Emma grabs at the knob behind her and snaps the door open violently, Marian's weight thrown off balance, she stumbles to the side and Emma can't feel anything beyond petty satisfaction as she stomps out the door.

* * *

The letters keep coming.

Regina's cheek bruises, a nasty blue purple, green at the edges, and Emma wonders why Regina doesn't just heal it with magic, she wonders, but she'd never ask.

* * *

"Shit," Emma says.

Snow titters, her hands twitching like she wants to cover her baby's ears, which is fucking ridiculous, but _whatever_.

Emma throws the latest letter down on Regina's dining room table; it's the only thing on the spotless and smooth wood. Henry and David are in the other room, playing some video game that probably has too much violence, but Emma never really cared, and it doesn't seem like Regina does either, not anymore.

"So eloquent, dear," Regina says, but it lacks heat, doesn't sound half as snide as it should, she's thinner, sickly thin, not hot thin, that bruise like fucking neon on her face, "but the sentiment is valid."

Snow bounces Neal, he's making that awful whiny noise that means he wants some milk, and he wants it NOW, which means Snow is about two seconds away from pulling her titty out. Oh, yup, she's pulling it out, flashing the whole room a pink nipple, "Regina," she says, "I can't imagine what you must be fe-"

"Feed your child elsewhere, Snow," Regina says, fingertips of one hand resting against the hard wood of her table.

It's brusque, an order, and Snow takes one look at Regina's face and does as requested, turning and headed towards the sounds of David and Henry's laughter, not before she glances at Emma.

"How can you be so fucking collected right now?" Emma asks, shaking her head, mouth open in confusion, "How can you invite us all over here for _bonding_ when this nutcase is writing about how he's gonna fucking _gut_ you and leave your body for the fucking birds?"

Regina looks at her, in that weird and deep way, that way that makes Emma remember that Regina is old as fuck, old and from another world, old and magic and powerful, a witch, like from the stupid stories and Disney movies, "Death has been my dancing partner for as long as I can remember, Miss Swan."

Emma would roll her eyes, so now she's Miss Swan again, great, but there's a weight to those words, god what is this, fucking poetry class? But it's frightening, the way Regina's voice runs over the syllables, the way she says it so simply.

"I've gotten all the proper documents together," Regina continues, reaching for the glass of wine she'd left somewhere behind her, "if this 'nutcase' succeeds in his attempt, I want you to know you'll be Henry's legal guardian, signed and notified."

Emma hasn't really thought of that (thinks of Henry as her own, whatever the paper trail says), and thinking of it now, thinking of how Regina is preparing for her own death, has Emma licking her lips, "Hey, don't talk like that, okay? Nothing is gonna happen to you."

Regina looks with that heavy look again, large dark eyes staring and staring, the pain in them is too much for Emma to bear, and she has lived through pain, but seeing Regina's has her turning away. "We shall see," Regina answers that optimism with.

* * *

Emma is there to overhear every excruciating detail.

Honestly, who has their deep soul to soul discussions in the fucking Sheriff Station? Well apparently Robin and Regina.

Damn. This is so fucking awkward.

"Would you simply listen to me?!" Robin demands, there's a sound, a fist meeting the lockers of the breakroom, the breakroom where Emma's lunch is sitting in the fridge, sitting and waiting for her..

Seriously, why are they even both here? But Emma knows, she knows Robin probably followed Regina in, and Regina probably has another letter to show Emma.

"What is there to say?" Regina answers, bite to her voice that has been missing, she sounds _pissed_. "Are you going to tell me she is your wife? That she's Roland's mother? Again, are you going to say these things to me again? For what purpose?"

"No, Regina, I'm trying t-"

"Trying to hurt me? Is that what this is?"

"NO," he yells, and there's another bang, Emma never thought Robin freaken Hood would be a violent guy, but there's no mistaking the sounds his fists make against the lockers, and the walls. Emma needs to go in there, this doesn't sound like a good situation _at all,_ Emma knows how easy it is to suddenly be hitting the wall, next second it's not the wall anymore.

"What do you want?! I left you alone, Robin! Like you wanted!" Regina's voice rising and rising, "You told me to leave you alone!"

"I was wrong!"

Silence, Emma has her back against the hallway wall, head tilted towards the door of the breakroom, calm breath after calm breath leaving through her nose.

"Regina," Robin says, quieter, but not quiet enough to leave Emma out of the loop, "I was so incredibly wrong."

There's a wobbly breath, a sort of gasp, it's Regina.

"Do you know how torturous it has been to live without you?" Robin says, "To watch you from afar, with your son, with your family? When I could have been your family as well?"

"Oh yes," Regina huffs, "so awful to hold your _wife_ close to you, to lay with her at night. Tell me, when you fucked her, was that agony as wel-" Robin lets out a frustrated sound, Regina talks over him, "did you force yourself to do it? Hmmm, was that torture, Robin? Let me guess, you were thinking of me the whole time? As if that makes any of this better? As if _anything_ could make this _better_?"

"I want to fix this!" Robin's boots thud when he walks, is he stomping his way over to Regina? He must be, because she's retreating, the click clack of her heels loud through the station.

"There is no 'this' to fix, Robin! You're not leaving your wife! What do you want?!"

There's a slam, those lockers rattling, it's a huge sound, the sound of Robin crushing Regina back against the cold metal, Emma decides that's it, that's all she's willing to listen to, she pushes off the wall, walks towards the door, gets there in time to see Robin say, "You, heaven damn me, I want you, Regina," before crushing a bruising kiss to Regina's lips, Emma stalls in the doorway, frozen.

He's got her crushed up against the lockers, just as Emma thought, his body tightly pinning hers, a thigh between Regina's, pushing up against her to widen her legs as he grasps at her hips. Regina's hands are by her sides, not fighting, not embracing, just hanging there, but she's kissing him back, Emma can see _that_ pretty clearly.

Shit, this is awkward, it's when Regina raises her hands, threading her fingers through Robin's hair and _pulling_ that Emma decides maybe she shouldn't interfere after all, she backs out, unseen and unnoticed.

* * *

Henry picked his own ringtone, it's the theme to GhostBusters, it blares out at around one in the morning, blaring and blaring from the nightstand it's charging on.

"wha?" Emma answers, with bleary eyes looking out into her dark bedroom, still half asleep, only answering because it's Henry, she always answers for Henry.

He'd been with Emma for a week, this is his first night back at the mansion. Regina. Emma's eyes widen, she springs upright, it's the middle of the night, he's at Regina's. She can hear him sobbing over the phone now, muffled, he's holding the phone with fumbling hands, there's the shink of fabric over the speaker, "Hey, kid, hey, what's happened?" Emma fumbles off her bed.

"She's not-" Henry pulls in a huge breath after his hiccup, audibly trying to calm, "not here, Emma, Mom's not here, her bed is empty."

"I'm coming right over, do you hear me?" Emma's pulling her pants up her legs one handed, "You go to your room, and you lock the door, okay? I'm coming right over."

"There- blood," Henry cries, his cries dig into Emma's brain, adrenaline pumping through her, adrenaline and panic, "Emma, there's blood on her bed."

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	11. Secret Admirer (3 of 4)

Emma trips down the stairs, tugging on her shirt even as she's falling, it's not graceful, the way she slams down on one knee, "SHIT," Emma hisses (loudly), before she limps back up, fumbling towards the table, towards the chair that has her jacket slung over it. Leave the jacket, she thinks, but it's fucking cold outside and she's going as fast as she can.

"Emma?" her mother's voice and Emma turns her head only slightly, her unbrushed hair wild and stringy all around her face, Emma's already heading towards the door and Snow's voice doesn't stop her, she steps on some jangling baby toy left on the ground, it starts to play a tinkling version of 'twinkle, twinkle, little star', she hadn't seen the stupid toy with only the street lamp outside the huge drafty windows to light the apartment. Its tinkling tune has David grumbling from the bed.

Emma's putting her arms in her jacket as she reaches for the doorknob (the jacket took two seconds, it's fucking cold outside and those two seconds can't possibly matter, not in the grand scheme of things, _you could have just left the fucking jacket_). Snow stands at the foot of her and David's bed, the street lamp outside the window shining around her form, Neal's suckling at her tit, a midnight feeding, Snow's eyes widen, horror showing in the form of her slowly gaping mouth, in her face that Emma can barely see, "no," she whispers, "no, no, Regina-"

Snow's walking forward, even as Emma tears the door open, the old hinges groaning, "I gotta go," Emma says, her only response to Snow's horror, to the awful fear in her voice.

"Emma!" Snow says, she's so close now, the light from the hallway shines on her, on Emma, Snow had run the last steps, she clasps at Emma's arm, holding her daughter with one hand, and holding her son with the other, Emma can hear Neal noisily sucking milk as she looks down at his little face, at the dark hair on his head that he clearly got from Snow.

"I- I gotta go," Emma repeats, she thinks she's numb, she should probably be feeling some of the horror Snow is, some of the fear, but her thoughts are of Henry, and she thinks maybe she's not fully awake, it's like on a loop in her brain, Henry's sobbing words '_there's blood_,' he keeps saying, in his voice that is getting deeper, because he's getting older, '_blood on her bed'_, he says and she wants him to shut up, just shut the fuck up but her brain won't listen to her, '_there's blood on her bed'_, shit, she should have just left the jacket, the stupid fucking jacket.

Emma tears her arm from Snow's clinging hand, out the door and closing it swiftly behind her, the door shuts more forcibly then she'd intended, the old thing creaking then slamming, but it doesn't block out Snow's anguished cry, "noo!" she screeches, and then she howls her husband's name. Emma can hear her through the door, even as she's racing down the stairs with a hand on the banister, "David, wake up! David!" Snow screeches, Neal's piercing wails ring through the whole building.

It's fucking cold outside, it's cold and quiet, snow falling softly in huge lovely clumps. Emma races to the bug, throws herself inside and can't stop her flow of curses as the engine fails to turn over once, twice, a third time, "Fuck, fuck," she's whispering, trying one more time and she thinks of Henry, alone and frightened, locked in his room, '_there's blood on her_ _bed_'. Sparks erupt high up Emma's shoulder, white sparks that spit as they race down Emma's arm, "ahh shit!" Emma screeches, throwing herself to the side, but it doesn't hurt, not really, the sparks race down her arm and shoot into the bug's dash, it starts with a _roar_.

* * *

She has a service pistol, a gun she leaves locked at the station when she's not on county time, she doesn't have it with her now, she's parked in front of Regina's house, her fucking mansion, she doesn't have her legal, Sheriff office issued gun with her.

But there's another gun, a gun with its serial shaved off, a gun she took from a bounty once, years ago now, kept hidden under the seat of the bug through curses, through missing years, through everything, there's always been the gun under her seat.

Emma grabs it, checks the chamber and the safety as she races from the curb and up the path to the door, every foot fall crunching the snow under her boots, the front door is open, gaping and swinging in the cold wind, like a fucking portal to hell, it's dark inside the house, dark and there's this awful feeling all around, a weight pressing down and Emma thinks it's magic, some funky magic that makes her skin tingle, makes some extra sense she'd never realized she had come to life in an absolute eruption of agony.

The house is clear, and it's only after she's swept through it all, her gun held before her, gritting her teeth as each room is as empty as the one before it, it's only then that she goes to Regina's room. It stinks like burnt cookies or something, there's a haze of grey smoke in the air, almost gone, but that stench, Emma smells it and immediately questions "What the fuck?" The bed is a mess, the sheets rolled up from the corners, everything ruffled and wrinkled, the blankets spill over the mattress and onto the floor, they spill towards the door like they'd tangled and tripped someone as they tried to escape. There's blood on the bed, up near the headboard, it's still fresh and red on the sheets.

"It's me, kid, hey, it's me," Emma says seconds later, knocking softly at Henry's door, it opens, and he's standing there with bare feet and old-school Avenger's pajamas, he's sobbing, the quiet kind that people do when their entire fucking world has just been ripped apart.

"Hey," Emma says, her gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans, tucked under her jacket at the small of her back, he must feel it there when he crashes in for a hug, must feel it as he desperately clings at Emma.

There's a huge boom from somewhere, it rattles everything in the house, the whole frame rattling, but Henry doesn't so much as move at all, "Emma," he sobs into her chest, "we have to get her back, did you see-" he hiccups, "the blood, she's hurt, Emma-"

The house shudders again, rattling and rattling, like a fucking earthquake but Henry keeps going, keeps talking, that extra sense of Emma's is going crazy, shooting licks of fire up into her, somewhere deep, into her magic, as ridiculous as that fucking sounds, another boom, but Henry keeps speaking. Emma grabs his shoulders, forces him back, just as the house rattles again, "Hey, can you feel that?" Emma asks, "the house is shaking, can you feel it?"

He shakes his head at her, his mouth forming 'what?' but Emma can't hear him at all as a huge screeching sounds in her ears, like the engine brakes of a sixteen wheeler, loud and consuming, right in Emma's ear and she might be shouting as she questions him again, "JESUS! Can you hear that? What the fu-"

And then it's gone, the sound, the rattling, just gone and done, and everything is as it was, just with Henry looking at her like she's absolutely insane.

* * *

It doesn't take long for Emma and Henry to show up at Mr. Gold's door, Henry's thrown his jacket over his pajamas, stuck his bare feet into huge thick boots.

It's his insistent knocking, thud thud thud, his open palm against the hard wood, again and again and again, screaming 'Rumplestiltskin!' and 'Mr. GOLD!' over and over, he's still got that awful expression on his face, like he's in agony, like his world will never be the same, and Emma thinks she's still numb, she'd bushled Henry into his coat, into his boots, ushered him out to the bug, and driven them here, but now that they are here it's him that's banging against the door, jangling the knob and once he finds it locked he hisses it out, "Fuck," _Henry_ says and continues pounding at the door.

It opens after two more minutes and Gold doesn't look pleased at all, downright pissed off, his thin face warps though, looking at Henry and then to Emma, his thin face doesn't show worry, or concern, nothing actually, he's suddenly blank, his thin face highlighted sharply by his porch light, "What's happened?" he says, but it has no heat, and Emma will kill him if he doesn't help, will take her unregistered, illegal gun, shove it in his mouth and blow out is fucking brains if he doesn't help.

This town isn't equipped for this situation, Ruby and David are the only others that could remotely be called 'law enforcement' like legal, state of Maine approved law enforcement, and three people aren't enough to search the town, aren't enough to do a perimeter, they aren't enough, and maybe Ruby could sniff Regina out, but Ruby is face first in her drink at the Rabbit Hole, she'd been Emma's first call, she'd answered with a drunken lisp, a half metered out 'whas happinin?' spilling from her before Emma understood that she'd be absolutely zero help.

Her second instinct was to call the staties, to get some real actual cops in here, but the town isn't real, not on any map, it's filled to the brim with magic, with people from another world and the thought of bringing in the outside was alive for maybe two seconds before Emma realized how fucking stupid it would be to actually call the fucking staties.

Gold is option number three, Henry had been the one to mention his name, 'he can do some magic or something' Henry had cried adamantly, he can do some magic shit, Emma found herself realizing (hoping), can track Regina or something, can wave his fucking hands and transport them to her side, he's got to (but he couldn't track where the letters were coming from, and neither could Regina, but that was different, Regina is a person, a living, breathing person and they don't just go away, don't' just disappear, he's got something up his sleeve, he's gotta help, he's-")

"Regina's gone," Emma says, "there's blood on her bed, and she's gone," she wraps her arm around Henry.

"While that is quite shocking, I don't see why-"

The boom sounds again, Gold's porch light swings as the whole world shakes, Emma slams her hands against her ears, watching with her face twisting as Gold does exactly the same, he's snarling, bending a little, eyes scrunched shut. Henry looks between them, his voice shrill enough to be heard over the loud as fuck engine breaks or whatever this bullshit magic shit is, "What's happening to you guys?" he asks, his hands on Emma.

"What is this?!" Emma screams, lifting her hands from her ears, screaming as loud as she can as she rushes up into Gold's space, "What the _fuck_ is this?!"

He doesn't answer, his eyes, shifty fucking eyes, god he is such a shifty motherfucker, his eyes swift back and forth between Henry and Emma, like he knows something, the fucker, "Is it Regina?!" Emma says, this sound, the sound that Henry doesn't seem to hear, it's magic, ringing through the air, through Emma's bones, straight into her fucking bones, filling her with anxiety, and all her numbness is buried under blinding anger, "You fucker, is it Regina?!"

"She's fighting back!" Gold finally answers, screaming as loud as Emma, he's griping the door frame tightly in a white knuckled grip.

"What?!" Emma screams, the air around them is whipping, like its being sucked and sucked away, but Henry stands like an eye of a storm, nothing touching him, not the wind, nor the sound, nor the shaking ground that has Emma pitching forward once more.

And just like before it all stops, it's gone as swiftly as it had begun.

"Take us to her!" Emma demands, grabbing a fistful of Gold's silky blue nightshirt, and what a fucking pretentious asshole, with his matched pajama set, "Wave your fucking hands and take us to her!"

"As if it's as easy as that!" he snaps right back, grabbing at her wrist and hauling her off him.

"Yeah, I think it is as fucking easy as that!" Emma snarls and again makes a grab for him.

He pushes her back with magic, Gold doesn't have to move at all, just a thought and Emma is pushed backwards three steps, "Regina made sure I couldn't track her long ago," Gold explains, plucking at his front to fix what Emma's grip had done. "Even if I was inclined to help you after your unilaterally uncouth approach-"

"Grandpa?" Henry asks, sounds young, it's manipulation, and all three know it. Gold looks down at Henry, the kid is close to tears, with that empty expression on his face, and _that_ is real, that awful terror and sorrow, "Please, you have to help, there's has to be something, please, she's my mom, Grandpa, please."

"Henry," Gold sighs.

Emma's phone blares from her pocket, she fumbles for it, it's a number she doesn't know, but she answers anyway.

"What?" she snaps.

"…hello to you as well, Miss-" there's a measured intake of air, "Swan."

"No way, fuck, Regina-"

Henry turns, Gold stops speaking, "Is that my mom?" Henry screeches, mangling Emma's arm as he tries to wrench the phone to his own ear, "Is that my mom? Is she okay? Emma, is she-"

Gold tugs at Henry's shoulder, giving Emma some space.

"I," Regina's voice sounds weak, breathy, stuttered, and somehow that makes Emma's fear notch up like ten times higher, "I need help," Regina says, dazedly. And it's then that Emma remembers that calls to the Sheriff station get rerouted to her in off hours, and that fills her with fear too, that Regina had called 911 for help, a witch, a powerful Queen, something about her dialing the numbers 911 has unease crawling up Emma's spine.

"Hey, alright," Emma springs down the steps of Gold's porch, "where are you? Tell me where you are, alright?"

Her voice quieter, "I'm hurt, I need-" she coughs, hacking and hacking, it sounds wet even over the phone, a clatter, and then nothing, the line is still open, but there's only silence.

"Regina, Regina!" Emma snaps her fingers at Gold, he looks indignant but he comes forward, limping down his steps, "There's gotta be a way to find her," Emma says, demands.

"What about Robin?" Henry says, staring at the phone in Emma's hand, the phone still held to her ear, "Robin is her," he looks uncomfortable, "soul mate, right? If you were with him could you use him like a compass?"

It sounds like a load of malarkey, but Gold seems to be considering it, before he slowly nods, "I'll make it work," Gold says to Henry, and he sounds like he means it, like Henry's pleading has really touched something in Gold.

Gold holds out a hand to Emma, and one to Henry, but Emma realizes that she has no idea in what state Regina will be in, she pushes Henry away when he approaches, she puts her phone in her pocket, feels guilty hanging up, but it's not like Regina was saying anything, Emma pushes Henry away, a soft push back towards Gold's house, "hey, go inside, go to Belle."

"Emma," he says, but she pushes him back a step more.

"Now, kid," she says, he shakes his head, "I mean right fucking now, kid," she says, the first time she's ever sworn at him and he looks shocked, and hurt, still ready to cry.

"Mom," he says, the first time he's called Emma that title in weeks, he sounds heartbroken and he's only a kid, fuck, she's gonna say sorry, but Gold chooses that moment to grasp her elbow, to poof them away in a stinging cloud of red that snorts up Emma's nose in her surprise.

"Asshole," she snaps as they appear on solid ground, appear almost in the fire of the Merry Men's camp, eight guys pull daggers on them simultaneously. Emma holds up her hands, "Woah, calm down, Jesus!"

"Hold!" Robin screams, running forward and into the fires light, his brow instantly wrinkles in concern, "What is the meaning of this?" he doesn't look comfortable with Gold in his camp, he directs his question to Emma.

"Regina was abducted from her house," Emma wastes no time in explaining, urging Robin forward, but he's wary, stepping slowly, even as his face shows his sudden fear, "now get over here and hold hands with me and Gold, we're gonna use you to find her, come here, come on."

"How will such a thing work?" Robin asks, his steps have stopped, and half his men hadn't listened to him, they still have their daggers up.

"Look, man," Emma seethes, "are you her fucking soul mate or not?" she asks.

And he cringes at her tone, but he nods, he nods and steps closer. (where's his wife, Emma wonders)

"Then get the fuck over here, Gold, what do you need him to do?"

Robin places his hand in Gold's when Gold offers his, Gold holds his palm up, "I need you to think of Regina," Gold says, "soul mates are connected, a thread tying them together, through space and time, and all hardship, a real thread that ties them."

His accent lulls, Gold's voice smoothing over this little speech, "Think of her," Gold repeats, "look and find the thread, when you have it tell me."

Emma watches Robin's men, her hand in Gold's now too, watches them dance from foot to foot, the big guy they call Little John seems the most antsy, and it's him that calls Robin's name.

Robin shakes his head, a violent 'Be quiet' slipping through his lips, his eyes are scrunched shut, like his thoughts are hurting him, as if he's in pain, he gasps and doubles over, the hand that is not in Gold's springing above his left hip, "I have it, I have it," he gasps.

Gold's grip tightens, the red smoke burns Emma's nose again.

Emma rips her hand from Gold's as soon as possible, swiping at the red that lingers in the air, she looks around, they're in a kitchen, a huge one, it looks like a bomb went off in here, everything is off its hinges, everything is dented, there's debris all over the floor, shards of glass and warped plastic. The air is heavy, suffocating magic everywhere, it reeks of burnt baking, absolutely _reeks_.

Regina is on the floor, on the tile floor of the kitchen they've arrived in, bloody and obviously beaten (she's only wearing a nightie, barely to mid-thigh, it's stained with blood, god had she- Emma's thoughts stutter, no, she wasn't, couldn't have-), a corded phone in her limp hand, she's sprawled by the wall, there's a bloody hand print up near the phones cradle, she'd had to climb from the floor to get the phone, "oh, shit," Emma says, running forward, dropping to her knees by Regina. "Shit, oh shit, Regina, can you hear me? Hey," Emma says, hand on Regina's shoulder, shaking her a little.

Robin is right next to Emma, on his knees too, one of his hands sweeping Regina's hair off her face, it's stuck there, stuck with tacky blood, matted with sweat, she's a mess, oh god.

Regina's eyes slit open, a wet breath escapes her, her face is swollen, she's swollen all over, bleeding and cut up, some gurgles that might have been her attempting to speak escape her mouth.

"Regina," Robin says, cries out, hesitant hands cupping Regina's jaw, "look at me, you're alright."

Emma leans back, shuffles on her knees to give Robin more room as she pulls her phone from her pocket, dialing for an ambulance; she should have done it sooner, shit, shit.

"Henry-" Regina says, blood spurts up from her mouth, there's a wound down near her hip, a slash that's wide and red, so fucking red, soaking the nightie, there's a puddle of blood forming under her, shit, oh shit, "-him I love- h-him," she stutters.

"Don't talk like that," Emma barks, the emergency hospital line bleeps a busy signal into Emma's ear, and this line is supposed to be open all the time, every hour, every day, what the fuck, fuck.

"no, no," Robin soothes, easy voice, gentle voice, there are tears dripping off the tip of his nose, splatting over Regina's face, he wipes his tears off his cheeks with a violent hand, even as he's gently cupping Regina's fucked up face with the other, "shhh, you'll tell your boy that, tell him every day at breakfast, you'll make him his favorite every morning and tell him. What's his favorite, Regina, can you tell me?"

He's trying to keep her awake, and it's working, her eyes focus slightly, on him, a smile (her teeth stained with blood) slowly forms, she's out of it, dazed, she smiles, "Waffles," she breathes out.

Emma redials the hospital, swears urgently into the phone when the busy signal comes to her again.

"And yours, Regina, what's your favorite? I'll make it for you, tell me," Robin questions, his voice shaking now, he turns quickly to look at Emma, and all she can do is redial the phone, hold it to her ear.

"Apple pan-pancakes," Regina, her voice barely there, breath hitching, her whole torso jumping with her torturous breaths.

"I'll cook them for you, Regina, stay with me, look at me, hey," Robin turns Regina's head back up when it goes limp, her eyes are still open, "I'll make your favorite for you, just stay with me here."

"Robin," Regina breathes, her labored breathes slower, the puddle of blood has grown and grown, it's touching Emma's knees now, wet and awful, Emma shudders and moves away.

"Stay with me here," Robin begs, "right here with me, _stay with me_."

Regina's eyes aren't focusing anymore, she's got a huge bump over her left eye, that whole side of her face is swollen, "happy, be- be happy," she says as her eyes slip half shut, she's unconscious.

"NO! no, no," Robin cries.

Emma redials the hospital desperately; it should be open, every day, all day, an emergency line. Why is it busy? What the fuck?

"Move," the order comes from Gold, and before Emma can even try to comply, she's flung back on her ass several feet. Her and Robin both thrown from Regina's side with no thought to their wellbeing, Robin is thrown into the face of a dishwasher, it dents further than it already had been with his impact, he grunts.

He's up in a second, he stops when he gets a good look at what Gold is doing.

Gold has sunk down to one knee next to Regina, his head tilted softly as he looks down at her, an almost confused expression on his face, a weighted frown pulling at his lips as he raises a hand above the wound above Regina's hip. Magic seeps from Gold's hands, seeps and seeps in waves into Regina's body, she seizes, a strangled cry from her, and Emma springs to her feet, "You better be saving her life," she says to Gold, and he takes the time to turn and glare at her haughtily.

The phone still held to her ear, Gold's magic seeping into Regina, it's only then that Emma looks deeper into the kitchen, it's then she sees the dead body.

She's frozen, looking at the heavy set man on the floor half a room away, his neck twisted, his huge hands limp, his fingers curled softly, hair grows thick on his arms, Emma takes one step towards the body, and then she stops, this is the guy, she thinks, the guy who'd written all the fucked up shit, who'd taken Regina in the middle of the night and people get what they deserve, Emma thinks, this guy got what was coming to him.

"Storybrook Hospital," a woman's voice finally sounds from the phone still in Emma's hand.

* * *

Hospitals have a smell, it's the chemicals (and death), the chemicals are heavy in the air, irritating Emma's nose as she sits in the waiting room, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, her hand grasping Henry's.

It's been hours, the only sound is Neal wailing, as if he can read the misery and anticipation in the air, he wails and wails and refuses Snow's breast when she offers it to him.

Gold's magic hadn't mixed well with the magic used to wound Regina, he said, he'd done his best, but she's still fucked up, as Gold had lifted his hands from her, she'd still been so fucked up.

But she was alive.

Henry is all tight all over, his muscles cramped, the hand not in Emma's, it holds onto the arm rest in a death grip, he's been looking at the same spot on the wall since he sat down.

"Your mother told me to tell you she loves you," Robin says, and what a way to try and start a conversation, Emma thinks, looks up at him as he comes to stand in front of Henry, and damn, can't he see _now is not the fucking time?_

"You should go back to your wife, I bet she's worried about you," Henry says, dry and brittle, the passive aggression thick, damn, he looks like Regina when he does that kind of shit.

"I shant be leaving," Robin answers.

Henry's gaze lifts from that spot on the wall, lifts and lifts up till it meets Robin's.

The two stare at each other, Henry glaring, Robin calmly meeting his gaze, "I love your mother very much," Robin finally says, offers it like some kind of olive branch.

Henry's strength seems to leave him, and he's just a kid in pj's with messy hair, a scared kid, his spine bends, he crumples back into his chair, eyes back to that spot on the wall, and when Emma squeezes his hand, his stays limp and unresponsive, "but you hurt her, do you even know how bad your hurt her? You don't do that to people you love, you _don't_," the kid sounds broken.

"Every day I will show your mother how sorry I am, I promise you," Robin says adamantly, sitting down on his haunches to be more on Henry's level, and Regina does that kind of thing too, lowers herself to look Henry in the eye.

"So what," Henry says, cutting but without any touch of heat, like he's too tired, "you're going to divorce your wife? Mom said you wouldn't do that for her, that you didn't love her enough to do that, and you know what I said?"

"Henry," Emma says, tries to sooth; she hadn't known Regina had talked to Henry about this shit.

"I told her to just wait," Henry spits that out, his lip sneering, "I saw you with her, you know, and I thought you loved her, that you'd come for her, but you never did, you never," he's shaking, so angry, his voice rising, "_fucking_," he springs to his feet, "_CAME_!"

Robin closes his eyes in the face of Henry's rage, he stays down on his haunches, licks his lips, and he looks pained, "No vow binds me any longer," he says, when Henry turns a confused eye Robin rephrases it, "Marian and I are no longer man and wife," he says, he sounds tortured.

Henry turns to look at Emma, she doesn't know what he wants from her, so she says nothing, shrugs a little. Henry swallows and turns back to Robin, "yeah, well it's too late," Henry says, and Emma remembers the day she'd overheard Robin and Regina in the breakroom of the station, Henry doesn't know half of what he's talking about, but she'll never correct him, never, he says it again before he rushes out of the room, "it's too late."

David follows after him, Emma stays in her chair, Robin is still hunched there, almost in front of her, he puts a hand over his eyes and retreats as far into the room as he can get, Emma and Snow both pretend not to hear his heartbreak, they both pretend Neal is the only one crying.

* * *

**authors note, Hey hey yall, what is going on with you? how are you liking the story? any thoughts?**

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	12. Shards of Fractured Life (1 of ?)

Robin is holding one of her hands in both of his, his thumb running over her knuckles, sweeping back and forth over the soft skin. Soft, she is always soft, her hair, her skin, her voice in the night as they whisper together of things like second chances, of futures, of shared happiness.

Her hand is small in his, her limp fingers almost stubby, the nails trimmed neatly, they are painted cherry red.

('To match your lipstick,' Robin had told her as he lounged on the bed, clothed already, waiting for her, and happy to do so, comfortable against the pillows and sheets, comfortable, wrapped up in everything that smelled of her, smelled clean, of apples and the vaguely flowery scent of her soup and lotion. She'd chuckled, a low, soft rumble from her chest, smirking as she plucked the chosen color from her vanity. Regina came to his side and sat beside him, he watched with a hand idly trailing up and down her spine, the silk of her blouse smooth against the pads of his fingers, as each neatly trimmed nail was painted.

One coat, then a second, before she topped the little bottle and hollowed her cheeks as she blew breath against the paint, 'How does it look?' she questioned, turning to regard him, a blush growing on her cheeks as she encountered the full force of his scrutiny.

'Utterly captivating,' Robin answered, gently clasping one of her hands; her fingers still splayed apart, the polish not fully dry. He studied the smoothness of the color, and grinned, 'Shall we match?" he asked, wiggling the free fingers of his left hand, and his grin only grew wider when she guffawed. 'I have seen men in this land with their nails decorated so,' Robin pretended to take offence, but could not stop grinning.

She rolled her eyes at him, pried free with a tsk of her tongue, but he reached out and pulled her hand back to him, turned it over and pecked a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

'Come on, lazy, we'll be late,' Regina ducked her head, the blush hotter on her cheeks as he let her go, she stood, smoothed careful hands down the front of her blouse and skirt, walking to exit the bedroom. She turned back to him, to smile with her hand against the door jam, watching him as he made no move to rise, 'Robin,' she prompted.

He groaned still with that grin on his face, he rolled off the bed, 'As m'lady wishes.')

Robin is cradling her hand against his chest, his chest dances with each torturous intake of air he's able to draw, each breath threatens a sob. Every now and then Robin lifts the hand in his grasp, lifts it to his mouth and presses his lips to the soft skin before returning it to its place against his heart.

* * *

_"It needs a sacrifice!" Regina screamed over the howling wind. "It's the only way to stop it!"_

_Snow and Emma were behind Robin somewhere, too far to help, too far, they were too far, hunkered down beside a strange carriage, a- a car, a parked car, they looked like they were trying to speak, trying to yell to him or to Regina, to them both perhaps, trying to say something, but nothing could be heard above the wind that howled and howled, whipping Regina's hair across her face._

_Regina took one step, only one, Robin lunged for her, snaring the lapel of her jacket in an iron grip, "Don't you dare," he called, desperation in his voice. "Don't you dare! Regina!" He tried to drag her back, hoping to reach the car beside which Emma and Snow had taken refuge, but Regina couldn't be moved. Magic, he thought bitterly._

_(Magic he thought, awe apparent in his gaping mouth, in his eyes that he refused to blink, lest he miss just one moment of the wondrous sight afforded him._

_The very air around her seemed to thrum, a soft glow from some inner light that shone and shone through her skin, little rivulets of lace like white spreading from directly under her, the patterns, the little streams of white, spreading and spreading along the dirt, skittering up trees, each leaf brightened and glowing white, every tree within eyesight only moments later with light seeping through the cracks in their bark. Her hands rose, parallel to another and rising, raising, above her shoulders, up into the air, her eyes closing softly, her lips slightly parted._

_Until it all cut off all at once, a soft groan accompanying her stumble as she near fell to her knees, would have fallen if he had not been there to catch her around the waist, to help her keep her feet. But she was smiling, 'It worked?' she asked, pride in her voice._

_There was pride in his smile too, as he ducked down to kiss the corner of her mouth, the noise of the forest had stuttered to life around them, the forest frozen and cold, silent, all the poor animals frozen mid-lives, they were once again free and warm and chittering, chattering, the twittering song of a bird began up in the tall oak beside them._

_She laughed, looked up to catch a glimpse of the happy bird, and the sound, the sight, was so beautiful, enchanting, he ducked down to kiss her again, her laughter muffled against his mouth as her hand played in his hair.)_

_His hand gripping her coat, pulling at her, but she wasn't to be moved, as if she'd stuck her feet to the ground and she still didn't look at him, only stared into the hole ripped into being in the middle of town square, her eyes narrowed, calculating, her head did tick then, as her eyes swept across town, over the damaged town, she focused on Archie across the way, the man sobbing with Leroy beside him as the pair tried their best to staunch the blood spurting from Archie's broken leg. She shook her head, "You don't understand," she said, as Archie's dog began to howl at his side, and still did not look at him. "It won't stop unless it gets what it wants. It'll destroy everything."_

* * *

Robin is silent as he sits beside her form on the cold concrete, the wet and unforgiving ground where she fell, she fell and he had not caught her. He's silent but for his shuddering breathes, for the sobs that break free of his control.

Every now and then a word begins to contort his mouth, but no sound escapes his throat, no utterance occurs, her name is _almost_ said at least a dozen times, but instead it is silence from him.

('Regina?' he called, he was up with the sun, dawn creeping hazy light through the curtains of her kitchen as he padded barefoot, but she'd beaten him to wakefulness, he'd woken alone in her warm bed. There was no answering call from her, her huge house was filled only with the little sounds of her home, the little sounds, the ticking of her giant clock in the dining room, the shuffling sounds of Henry's feet in his room, the whooshing of the device she called a washing machine down in the basement, all the little sounds. 'Regina!' he called again, louder, and some inkling of unease that had barely formed disappeared as her voice came to him.

'Out here,' she beckoned, and dutifully he walked outside the patio doors, smiling at the sight of her with hair untamed and matted, smiling at the sight of her still in sleepwear, seated on a lounger with her legs curled under her, a steaming cup of coffee warming both her hands as she held it close to her face.

He walked to her and leaned down to kiss her, he slid his hand up to cradle the back of her head and breathed in the warm, slept-in smell of her hair and clothes, and kissed her. He could not contain the feelings that spread across his chest and into his heart when she smiled into his kiss, her lips quirking up at the corners.

'Good morning,' she breathed when he pulled away.

He bumped his forehead to hers softly, 'Now it is,' he corrected, kissing her softly once more before straightening.

'There's more coffee in the pot,' Regina told him, before sipping from her mug.

He padded back into the house, pulled the mug that he'd begun to think of as his from the cupboard, poured the steaming liquid, strong and bitter and perfect, before he joined her back outside. Regina shuffled forward on the lounger, made room for him behind her, and that's where he sat until Henry came investigating breakfast, sat with Regina leaning her back against his chest, with her nestled between his legs, the pair sipping at their caffeine with nothing but soft touches and sighs between them, watching the morning fog slowly burn away.)

Robin cannot say her name and have her not answer, she will not answer, she _cannot_ answer.

Finally a word does break free, "noo," he quakes out softly, keening, "no, no," and then he cannot stop, heaving out pain filled whimpers, his lungs constricting, the pain is inside him, pressing in his ribcage, pushing his sternum in and in, sharp and searing, pain like he can't imagine, "no, no, god, oh god," he can't stop now that he's started.

He drops her hand, only to wrap his arms around her back and draw her fully into his lap, awkward and heavy, an unresisting burden that he pulled close to him and held tightly. Rocking back and forth, "no-ooo," he keened, "no, no," landing his face in the crook of her neck when her head lolled to the side, her head loose and heavy on her neck, his shoulders shaking as he held her.

* * *

_"It doesn't get to have you," Robin said, even still pulling at her, trying to manhandle her back to stand beside him. "Let it destroy the world, it will not take you from me!" Panicked, he could feel the blood rushing through his brain as he tried desperately to pull her back. Every beat of his heart felt like a huge hollow drum strike to his being, struck and struck, again and again, consuming and loud, his whole body vibrating with the force of it._

_"Please," Robin started, and then stopped, his mouth hanging open. She turned to look at him then, her hands, small hands, clasping around his wrist, and, so slowly, his fingers slipped free of the soft fabric of her jacket, his grip loosened against his will. Magic, he thought. With wide eyes he looked at her, "Please," he said, again. Please what?. _

_('Please, don't leave,' she cried out, following in his footsteps as he made his way to the door, he wasn't leaving in heat, they were not fighting. But she stopped him with those words, torn from her throat as a needy cry. _

_Robin turned back to her, saw her slap her hand over her mouth, as if to push the words back in, her eyes wide and filled with fear above her shaking hand. He looked at her, lovely and short without her heels, barefoot against the plush carpet of her den, an arm wrapped around herself, he looked at her, before he could not take it any longer and raised both hands to scrub at his face._

_'I'll come back', Robin whispered, moved his hands back to weave his hair through his fingers, 'after Roland's asleep,' he promised her._

_'Marian will ask you to stay,' Regina told him, lowering the hand from over her mouth, hiding the shaking appendage behind her back, and they both knew what she said was true, that his wife, no, not any longer, not for a week now, that his once wife, would ask him to stay. Marian would not beg, would not plead, would not demand, but she would ask, calmly, in that patient voice, would ask him to stay with her._

_'I'll come home to you,' Robin promised, took the five steps needed to close the distance between them and wrapped Regina in hug, kissing the top of her head as she hummed a sigh and wrapped her own arms low around his waist._

_But Roland had a fever; Robin stayed by the boy's side through the night, Marian and Robin working in turns to soothe the boy, to fetch medicine and cool rags for his burning forehead. _

_Robin picked his phone from his pocket once, the cellphone Regina got for him, taught him to use, Regina still laughed at him when he forgot he did not need to yell into it to be heard, he picked it from his pocket once, and did not even have the chance to wake the screen as a piercing wail from Roland shattered its way through Marian's new small house._

_He picked up his phone a second time, nearly half an hour later, and cursed aloud when he found the battery had died._

_When finally he returned home, returned to Regina's house, it was to her sitting in the same clothes as the evening before, sitting on the couch almost where he had left her hours ago, it was four in the morning, she sat with the lights on, her hands clasping a book that she clearly wasn't reading._

_He cursed his phone, he cursed Roland's sudden illness, and most of all he cursed himself as she lifted red rimmed eyes to look at him, her chin lifted and held out, tense and hurt and proud, as composed and broken as someone striding their last steps to the guillotine. Robin went to her, held her hands in his, he explained what had happened and she heard him, listened to him without saying a word, until she nodded._

_But she sobbed while lying in his arms when they finally got to bed, maybe she thought he was already sleeping, maybe she trusted him, at least in the dark, with his arms around her, holding her to him, trusted him enough to cry and sob with her head tucked down against his chest, her fingers holding onto him desperately.)_

_There were tears in her eyes, those huge dark eyes, beautiful eyes, "You don't mean that," she said, but she was wrong, he would let the world burn if it meant keeping her, would watch a thousand people suffer if it meant her safety. He was more selfish then she ever gave him credit for, his heart not as glowing red as she always thought, but she never wished to see it, saw only the good and noble and pure of him, but he is selfish, and he would let the world burn if it meant her beside him._

_"I love you!" he said, she flinched away from him_

_"I love you too," she told him._

* * *

There is a sound, repeating over and over, being called from somewhere behind him, he thinks it might be his name, but he can't turn his head away, he won't try.

He lowers her enough to look at her face, her eyes are open, wide and dark and staring unseeingly up at the bright blue sky. The bright blue sky, all the clouds, the black and angry clouds that swirled, they'd disappeared as she fell, dissipating even before her knees had hit the ground. She looks beautiful with the sun shining on her.

Robin draws her back to him, kisses her hair line, his shoulders shake, a soundless whimper screws up his face, his eyes scrunch shut, he can't look at her anymore, but the image of her, limp and heavy and lifeless on the wet concrete, is burned into his mind. He will see her lying here every time he closes his eyes, every day of his life, every blink will make fresh the horror.

(It's burned onto his retinas, the sight of her, her naked body atop him, riding him. 'Robin,' she pants out, her hands over his, his hands are right at her waist, gripping her tightly, bouncing her up and down on him, the muscles of his arms burning from the awkward strain, even as his hips move up and off the bed, over and over, slipping his cock up into her warm, wet heat.

'You're so beautiful,' he grunts out, his neck straining, every muscle tight as he gets closer and closer to his release, thrusting and thrusting up into her, the mattress aiding each return up into her, the whole frame moves with them, scuttling at the floor, the headboard noisily scraping against the wall.

Henry is with Emma, Roland with Marian, and for that Robin is ever grateful as he pulls Regina down on him and stills her there, holds her down on fully his cock, holds her with his entire length filling her completely, gritting his teeth as she near screams out a shrill wordless cry and ruts, rocking back and forth with him buried so deep, she's whimpering, her hands moving to his shoulders, fingernails carving into his flesh, her tits dangling like ripe fruit just out of reach of his mouth.

Robin moves one hand off her waist, curls it up and splays it between her shoulder blades, he pushes until her spine bends, until she lowers enough that he can take a nipple into his mouth, a bite that has her loose a sharp hiss between her teeth as she rocks back and forth, her hips doing all the work now. 'oh, g-god, Robin,' she moans out, the sound like heaven in his ears.

But it's not the breathless sounds he knows he can have her make, not the barks of pleasure that he wants to hear. He grips her waist once more, pulling her up and off him, he misses the feel of her instantly, the feel of her wet around him, hot and wet and perfect, driving him mad. But she knows what he wants, what she wants, she's smirking as she goes to her hands and knees, he scoots to the edge of the bed and stands, turns back to grab her hips and pull her closer, her knees rucking up the sheets as she moves, her ass glorious and held out to him with zero shame . Robin strokes himself with one hand, the other squeezing the deliciously plump rear before his hand runs up her spine, up the smoothness of her skin, up to the base of her skull and he urges her to lower her head to the mattress with a gentle hand.

'Just like that,' he groans as he guides himself back inside her, as she curves her spine and lowers her head down to the mattress, as she pushes her ass out to him and whimpers, the sound trapped against the blanket she's fisted and drawn towards her mouth. 'no,' he moves his hand from the back of her head, moves instead to ease her fingers from the blanket, thrusting gently, shallow thrusts as he pulls the blanket away, 'I want to hear you, go on, god, I want to hear you,' he begs as he moves to grips her hips with both hands, and pushes inside her harder, faster, balls deep and she barks out a wanton cry of pleasure that has him gasping for what it does to him.

This is what gets her off fastest, bent over, him being as rough as he's willing to be, and he knows she'd like it rougher, but he doesn't have that in him, not really, he thrusts though, hard and fast, pounding into her willing heat as she adjusts her knees and opens for him further, crying out. There's no need for quiet, no need to be restrained, each thrust fills the room with the slap of skin on skin, almost all out and then all back in has him grunting, has her panting, high pitched cry after cry spilling from her open mouth, her jaw open against the bed.

'Robin,' Regina cries when he reaches a hand around and flicks at her clit, before pinching it between thumb and forefinger, squeezing, before releasing and rubbing, rubbing as she tries to move against him and his cock, but the position doesn't allow her much room to maneuver.

It takes two minutes of him desperately rubbing at her clit for her to come, for her whole body to shake and quake against him, a long moan dragged low from her throat, her walls clenching, clenching, holding his cock so tight that he loses his rhythm, bucking wildly, noises of his own, god what she does to him, grunting as he spills himself inside her, coming a minute after her.)

This will haunt him forever, every sleep tainted, waking from a nightmare that will not end when he opens his eyes, the nightmare of a life without her, the nightmare of her heavy and limp and lifeless on the cold wet ground, sunlight streaming on her, her eyes that no longer see, lips that will never wrap around his name again.

* * *

_She took a step away from him, head turned away._

_Robin jumped forward, grabbing her by the arm, rough and bruising, desperate, wrenching her back and when she gasped out a pained cry, he wanted to say he was sorry, but all that escaped him was 'don't'. _

_"Don't, don't, please, Regina," he begged, griping her arm too tight, pulling and pulling. "Just wait, we have time, please. Don't, Regina."_

_But there was no time, the hole ripped into being by dark magic, it sucked and sucked at the town, the sign for Granny's Diner tearing free of its chain and whipping through the air, sucked in and spat back out, it hit a car, its lights beginning to flash, it's horn blaring as the sign slammed through its windshield._

_It would consume the town if it didn't get what it wanted, it would destroy everything._

_"Don't," Robin begged again, "Regina!"_

_('Don't run from me!' he screamed before he caught her arm and hauled her back, at her sharp intake of breath, at the pained grimace on her features, Robin loosened his grip. But he could not let her go, not when she did not understand him, 'Listen to me,' Robin begged, snared her other arm in his grasp too and held here before him, staring into her dark eyes._

_'You're hurting me,' she said, her voice still void of emotion, lacking and empty, a mask so finely crafted even he could not see through it. He loosened his grip, shame coloring his face, but she would not listen to him, he needed her to._

_'Listen to me,' he repeated, smoothing his hands up and down her upper arms, before snaking them up to swipe his thumbs over her cheekbones, 'Regina, I love you.'_

_A fissure appeared in the mask, for just a second, a flicker of pain and anguish, a flicker of hope, before she slammed down her walls._

_'I want to be with you,' Robin said, his face twisting when he saw the disbelief in her huge dark eyes._

_'Your wife-'_

_He cut her off, shaking his head, never looking away from her, 'I want you,' he said again, 'I need you, I love you.'_

_She shook at that, when –love- left his lips, her mouth opening, her mask falling away, she shook her head as if to clear it and raised her hands to his chest, splaying them there, he wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating._

_'You,' she shook her head again, 'you don't-'_

_'I love you,' he repeated, knowing in a sweep of anguish that he could tell her a thousand times and she'd never truly believe it. He'd spend the rest of his life trying, he decided._

_He kissed her, drawing her to him slowly, if she didn't want him, didn't want his kiss, she had time to draw away, had room and leverage to push him, but she let him, kissed him back._

_'But your wife-' she started as stopped to breath, parting only enough to draw air._

_Robin fisted a hand in her hair, gentle grip at the base of her skull, 'I love you, Regina, you are my future, my happiness,' he nudged her nose with his, 'my soul mate, Regina.'_

_It was the next day, waking up with her, in her bed, naked and happy, that he saw that he had bruised her arm, when he'd wrenched her back to keep her from running, finger sized bruises on the inside of her upper arm. He kissed each mark before she started to stir, started to wake from his ministrations, and when her eyes blinked open he cradled her face and apologized for hurting her, for marking her perfect skin.)_

_Regina turned to him again, desperation of her own coloring her features, "It'll destroy the town!" she cried, surged forward and kissed him violently, with tongue and teeth and desperate wanting need before she flung herself away from him, springing forward towards the danger, a wave of her hand sticking his feet to the ground when he tried to follow._

_"No!" he screamed, falling to his knees as he tried to drag his foot up, tried and tried again and again to free his foot, his muscles burning with the useless strain, "nooo! Regina! Regina, don't!"_

* * *

"Robin?" there's a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, it's a woman's hand, a small hand, the thing fingers gripping the material of his coat, tugging.

He turns his head, opens his eyes, and there is Marian, her eyes wide, her other hand, the hand not gripping his jacket, it's up and covering her gaping mouth. There are tears in her eyes, sorrow in her expression, she falls beside him and reaches out to Regina.

He watches her fingers reach and reach, slowly, as if afraid he'll attack, before she reaches the pulse point at Regina's neck, but he knows she will find no sign of a beating heart. He had felt Regina's last breath like it was his own, a strangled awful cry whimpering from his mouth as it did hers, as her life was sucked out of her, before her body, empty of all that made her _her_, her body just a shell, before her body fell to the concrete hard. The sky was blue even before she'd landed. The Dark Magic finally getting what it wanted.

"I'm so sorry," Marian tells him, drawing her hand back, turning over her shoulder to someone Robin doesn't have the strength to look at, "I'm so sorry," Marian repeats.

And for the first time Robin becomes aware of voices, the world coming to him, its sounds, Emma's voice, choked, "Jesus, oh man, _Henry_," she says, "I gotta tell Henry."

Snow cries loudest of all, breathy sobs that fill the street, Archie's dog is still howling, there's other sounds, confusing and too much, Robin rocks Regina back and forth and tries to block it out like before, but he can't. Another hand comes on his other shoulder, shaking him, until he looks up, looks up at Tinkerbelle, her hair lit up by the sun behind her head, the sprite is smiling.

The expression is so wrong, so completely, terribly wrong, that Robin doesn't even understand what he's seeing for a long moment, before a snarl twists his mouth. But she speaks before any words can escape him, a breathless, filled with hope, exclamation chirping out of the woman that falls to her knees beside him, her other hand up and held against Regina's hair.

"We can get her back," she tells him.

* * *

**authors note, was this set up too confusing? please tell me your thoughts, I love this sort of roller coaster ride of memories and stuff, so I'm not the best judge ?**

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


	13. Secret Admirer (4 of 4)

"Is she alright?" Snow asks, leaping from her seat the moment Whale enters the waiting room, "Can we see her? How is she?" she's blabbering, rocking Neal in her arms, bouncing her whole body to try and soothe him, holding him tightly, Emma doesn't even think Snow is aware of how tight she'd holding that baby. Snow glances down for a second as Emma reaches over, Emma takes Neal from Snow, the kid's crying quiets almost immediately, huh, Emma thinks, some of her headache receding as Neal stops wailing, pitiful whimpers escaping him instead, he doesn't like to be smothered either, surprise surprise.

Robin is slow to rise, looking terrified before his features harden and he stands and walks with silent steps to Snow and Emma, and Whale. He glances at the baby in Emma's arms, his expression never once changing before he addresses Whale, his voice low, Emma can barely hear him at all as Snow still strings question after question out her mouth, "Does she live?" Robin asks though.

Whale had a hand raised at Snow, some gentle command to calm, but he takes the time to nod at Robin, a little thing, a barely there tilt of his head, "Yes," Whale says, and Snow explodes a huge sigh of relief, her questions dying off mid-sentence, but Emma's anxiety isn't going anywhere anytime soon, people can live through lots of things, she knows that, Regina's alive, but being _alive_ doesn't mean being alright.

"Can we see her? How is she?" Snow asks, and now that there is no baby to pour her restless energy into, she wrings her hands instead. Emma shudders, that kitchen playing in her mind, the blood, Regina on her back, her nightie stained with blood, beaten, she was beaten, and she was…she was, Emma shudders, she was raped, Emma's almost certain, Emma shakes her head and smushes her nose in baby Neal's hair, trying to get the phantom smell of blood and burnt cookies out of her nostrils.

"I'm afraid I can only release information on Regina's well-being to Henry," Whale says, he turns his head away from Snow, turns to regard Emma, "he's her next of kin, her only family," he says, with some undercurrent of snark that Emma can't completely decipher.

"He's also a _kid_," Emma stresses, trying to find the best way to hold the baby, lifting her nose from his soft hair, his dark hair, so much like Snow's. Emma has years and years of fake memories, memories given to her by Regina, memories of holding Henry, soothing every tantrum, rocking him back to sleep and holding him close, but it was all fake, and she's remembering the truth now, she's never held a baby in her life before right now, not even her own baby, Henry, she'd sent him away to his new and better life having never held him. "Look, alright," Emma finally gets Neal nestled against her chest, somewhat stable between her breasts, a hand under his rump, the other up cradling his head ,"she was abducted and assaulted, that's a crime, right? And I'm the Sheriff, so-"

"As if justice has ever been served in this town," Whale scoffs, folding his arms and looking at Emma with such visual disdain, and she can't tell if it's disdain for her, or the position she somehow still holds (Sheriff, her badge says, and it tastes bitter on her tongue, fake and burnt, law enforcement to a bunch of fairy tales), Emma can't tell if it's just disdain for this wackadoodle town in general, but it pisses her off, pisses her off immediately that he dare wear _that_ face and direct it at her.

But Snow steps between them, a hand on Whale's arm, desperate hope on her face, "Victor," she says, "she's my step-mother, I'm her family." Snow lands her other hand against her own chest, right over her heart, "I'm her step-daughter," and hot damn, isn't that a whole tissue ball of issues, Emma grimaces, looking at her mother.

Little tween Snow White is always there inside, the little girl with huge doe eyes looking up at her beautiful new mother. Snow told Emma without prompting once, Snow had stared out the window of the loft, a cup of tea in her hand, slowly turning cold, the ceramic mug never once moving in the two hours it took to explain everything. Snow told Emma how Regina was beautiful and young and kind, lovely, that's the word she kept repeating, like in a daze, and Snow had loved her, had wanted her for a mother, this kind and lovely, lovely, woman ("How old was she?" Emma asked near the end of the tale, when Snow was vividly recalling Regina's wedding ceremony to Snow's father. Snow had closed her eyes, shaking her head and looked guilty and heartbroken, wretched, she looked tortured, "Too young," she finally answered and stood, standing so abruptly her chair screeched against the floor, leaving her untouched tea behind).

Whale isn't one to take fairy tale land bullshit for reals either it seems, he begins to shake his head, taking a step back, he can see for himself that Henry is not in the waiting room, he seems ready to bolt, but Snow's hand curls like a claw, snaring his sleeve in a relentless grip, "I'm her family," Snow repeats, some of that hope transforming into straight up mania, "Henry is a little boy, he can't make decisions for her, she wouldn't want him to."

"Regina wouldn't want him to know," Robin says, looking somewhere over Whale's shoulder, instead of in the doctor's face, "how hurt she is," Robin says, and the way he says _hurt_, he'd been there too, in the kitchen, with the blood, he'd seen the nightie (ripped, the seams on one shoulder ripped, wrinkled and bloodied all along the hem, he'd seen it, can paint a picture as well as Emma).

Whale tenses, swallowing and restless on his feet, barely moving before he sighs, gracelessly and bad temperedly, both feelings warranted, seeing as he'd been browbeaten into it, but he nods, reaches awkwardly for Snow's elbow and begins to draw her away.

Only her. Robin watches them go, swallowing, his hands in tight fists at his sides, his puffy from crying, puffy and red, his mouth a hard line.

Whale and Snow step out the waiting room doors, but Snow is a blab down to her bones, (Emma had foster-siblings like that, little tattles, goddamn snitches, the worst ones always the ones that thought that they were looking out for you, that they were helping you out by dropping the fucking dime) but Snow will mean well, and she'll spill it all.

* * *

But she _doesn't_ (not right away at least).

Snow returns looking ashen, in tears and shaking, reaching for Neal, taking his sleeping weight from Emma's arms and cradling him to her like he'll stop breathing or die or fucking disappear if she doesn't have her entire self wrapped around him.

Robin looks at Snow for full uninterrupted three minutes before his face transforms with rage, before he stomps out the doors, face ugly with rage and sorrow, he'd hoped he had been wrong, Emma realizes, Snow doesn't need to say a word to shatter his hopes apart.

Snow won't tell Emma a thing…

Which tells Emma all she needs to know really.

* * *

The Muffin Man, and Emma would snort if Regina wasn't still in the hospital, if said Muffin Man wasn't dead and still rotting in his kitchen because apparently the coroner doesn't want to _be_ a coroner anymore, he was a shoemaker in fucking fairy tale land, wants to be one here as well. It's looking a lot like the guy will decay right where Regina killed him, because no way in shit is Emma gonna be the one to pick his huge ass off that floor (especially now, five days later, Emma saw a dead body floating in a river once, bloated and discolored, skin like porridge). Fuck that, she'd rather burn the house down around him.

"His name was Arnold Sjorust here," David says, his knee jittering up and down, his chair groaning quietly, "owned the bakery, nobody who knew him here says they were aware of his magic." He throws some piece of paper down on his desk, then rubs at his face, his knee still jittering. Emma watches him from her perch, half seated on his desk, half leaning, her arms crossed.

Nobody knew he had magic? She wants to believe that, but that's bullshit, and both Emma and David know it, "Was he a big deal over there, the Muffin Man?" Emma asks after a moment.

'over there', she feels slightly less silly when she phrases it like that.

David nods, and shrugs, his hand still over his mouth, muffling his words, "I'd heard of him, hard not to hear of the cannibal warlock that abducted dozens of women and," he stutters, his knee stilling, before the pace picks back up, more fervent then before.

Emma picks a pencil up from the desk, David's desk, he's a full deputy now, salaried with benefits and everything, nobody is getting hurt in this town ever again, Emma picks up a pencil, before she lets it fall back down to the paper calendar spread out over the desktop, spread out to show January, and it sure as shit isn't January. Emma scowls, this whole place is falling apart, pulling apart at the seams slowly, this whole town, like sand through her fingers, Emma thought this stupid place could be a home, when Henry first dragged her ass here, god, years ago, when Snow was Mary Margaret, the best friend Emma had ever had, and yeah ol' MM was a bit of a skank, what with sleeping with a married man, but she was Emma's skank, but Mary Margaret, the cardigan wearing, skanky schoolmarm, she's gone, she's gone, and this town is following after her.

This fucking town, Emma slams the heel of her hand against David's desk, before standing and pacing, her arms crossed tightly once more, she's filled with the same restless energy that has David's knee dancing up and down, like father, like daughter, apparently.

"How's Henry doing?" David asks, he must still have his hand over his mouth, his words come out muffled, "Regina went home today, did Henry stay home from school?"

Emma stops her pacing, her entire body stiffening, "He must've skipped," Emma says, tries to be cool with it, tries to have patience, Henry hadn't breathed a word of Regina being released from the hospital to Emma. They have an apartment now, her and Henry, but Emma doesn't know how long that'll last now that Regina's home, he wants to be with her, wants to sleep in the room he grew up in, he wants the mother he always had, it took almost losing her in the most brutal and awful way imaginable for him to realize he wanted Regina. He must've skipped school, he didn't need to, Emma would have let him off the hook, but Henry's quiet now, pissed off, not at Emma, not really, but it's simmering in him all the time, escapes in eye rolls and sighs, in secrets and little acts of rebellion that better simmer down before they become _big_ acts of rebellion. He probably doesn't act that way with Regina.

"oh," David says, breathes out, awkwardly not knowing what to say to his grown daughter when it comes to dealing with teenagers and their shit, he'd had a newborn daughter in his arms, and then a twenty eight year old daughter breaking curses, no inbetween, Emma nearly snorts, when she stops to think about it sometimes, usually the most inopportune times, it always strikes her as hilarious, the biting kind that savages your lungs, _just fucking hilarious_.

"Yeah," Emma breathes, "Is Snow over there?"

She turns to look at him, sees him nod, his hand down and playing with the same pencil she'd picked up and dropped, just toying with it, something for his hands to do, "Yeah," he answers, "she went over there this morning and cleaned up, you know," he clears his throat, "the mess."

The tangled sheets, the blood near the headboard, that's all the mess was, just an unkempt bed (what happened in that bed, Emma doesn't know, but that's where the fucking Muffin Man bound Regina's magic, right there in her bed, as she lay sleeping, Snow caved, she dropped the dime eventually, it took three days for her to spill, she's a gab down to her roots, she whispered the words, like that meant it was still a secret, how he magicked himself into Regina's house, through her shields and her enchantments, said a little chant of his own and boom, Regina's magic bound. But she'd fought, fought against him and won, fought, rattled the whole town, every magic wielder felt it, the booming, the engine breaks, the whole world shaking, that was Regina fighting, and winning, Emma learned after, Regina fought back and fucking won. But something bad happened in that bed, Snow had looked away, didn't speak of _that_, but Emma's not a goddamn moron.)

"Cool," Emma shrugs, "are they getting along?"

David grimaces, he's drawing a little squiggly line down on the paper calendar, and it seems Emma inherited his art skills as well, as in he has none, and she has none, his squiggle even looks poorly drawn. Emma doesn't hold in the snort this time, her chest tight as she shakes her head, looks away from the man that is her father.

"Yeah," David must be looking at her funny, but Emma doesn't fucking care, "I think they are. Snow texted a while ago, said Regina was glad to be home."

"Cool," Emma says again, for lack of anything else.

"Yeah," David agrees.

Like father, like daughter, Emma leaves the station thinking, and she makes it all the way to the bug before her snorts of hilarity turn into trapped little sobs that she barely lets out as she drives.

* * *

Henry doesn't come home to Emma that night; Emma goes to her empty apartment, doesn't wait for him, not really, she knows he's not coming, he texts though, after the sun dips down, 'sleeping at mom's' he sends. Emma reads his message, shoots him back a 'k', and then sits on her couch and watches some empty stupid shit on Netflix as she sips at a glass of outdated juice and nibbles on cold pizza

She'd had him to herself for longer then she had any right (he's _her_ baby though, _her_ son, and now she knows she gave him away, all the happy and beautiful memories fake, but some voice inside still screams '_my son'_). This is the way Regina must have felt, Emma concludes, going for a second slice of pizza, this is what it feels like to lose your baby.

* * *

Arnold Sjorust, the fucking Muffin Man, his house burns down that night, with his body still rotting inside, all of it up in flames, a house not nearly as big as Regina's, but still pretty sizable, the entire thing burns down in about an hour, quietly too, quiet and fast, not one single spark drifting anywhere near his neighbors houses.

Emma hears it from David in the morning, as she sits alone and sips at her coffee, her cell in one hand, her mug in the other, both hands start shaking, her mug clunks against the table as she places it down, hot liquid spilling, but not a noise escapes her as she listens to her father.

She'd dreamt of fire. She'd dreamt of heat, of flame licking around her, of flame listening to her like faithful and loyal dogs, scampering at her feet and begging for a treat.

Holy shit.

She'd burnt the fucking house down.

Emma raises the mug once more, takes a sip of her coffee as David ends the call; she sits there, licks her lips, "holy shit," she says, and takes a moment before she cooks herself up some eggs.

* * *

Regina is the one to answer the door, and Emma didn't expect that.

She thought it would be Snow, or Henry, not Regina.

"Hey," Emma greets, her eyes slipping over Regina's face, the open to air stitches holding Regina's left cheek closed look particularly gruesome, accompanied as they are with the still awful bruising, still purple and blue, green at the edges, black eyes and a broken nose, Emma found out from Snow that Regina had lost two teeth, they'd been knocked clean out, but Emma can't see which ones when Regina greets her in return.

"Miss Swan," Regina says, steps aside in the doorway to let Emma pass, and that's an improvement at least.

"Henry's here?" Emma asks, stepping up the steps into the house proper and pretending to ignore the painfully slow pace with which Regina follows.

"He is, he'll be waking up soon," Regina says, catching up at last, her breath heavy through her fucked up nose, Emma pretends not to notice that as well, "should I be concerned that you weren't aware of his whereabouts? He promised he'd text you."

Emma's eyes scrunch slightly, she's pissed that Henry wants Regina, she's feels fucking guilty because Regina had to literally almost die to earn the pedestal that Henry always gave Emma so readily, and now add in grateful, grateful to Regina for making the kid let Emma know where he was. What a goddamn mess.

"He did, don't worry about it," Emma assures and moves towards the kitchen without an invitation (she wouldn't have gotten one), tries to move down the hall, she stills when Regina flinches, so fast and so minute it's almost unrecognizable for what it is, but Emma knows, she stops and tries to make it look natural when she raises both hands into Regina's line of sight as she gives her more room. Emma continues, walking slower towards the kitchen. Making sure Regina can see her all the way down the hall.

Regina follows after, peeved but quiet, watching as Emma seats herself at the kitchen island, "So," Emma says, drags it out, fidgeting, watching the way Regina leans back against the counter with her arms crossed, Regina's looks like she's trying to look like she's not exhausted and in a hell a lot of pain, she's not even remotely successful, Emma winces in sympathy and looks elsewhere as Regina grimaces as she turns, reaching for the coffee pot. "I think I burned down a house last night," Emma informs her.

Regina's eyes widen as she pulls the pot out, "Pardon me?" she asks, "I'm not certain, but arson is still a crime?" Regina lays the sarcasm on thick with that one, shaking her head before she starts again, "Why are y-"

"I did it while I was sleeping," Emma says over her, her foot tapping at the tile, "magic or whatever…it was _his_ house."

Regina takes a breath, and turns to focus on pouring out her coffee, her back to Emma, the terry cloth robe Regina wears over her pajamas looks thick and warm, she looks tiny in it, short and fucking tiny, and that's a crock of shit, because she's anything but small, anything but frail, she's a witch, a Queen, twice Emma's age, she'd killed a man five days ago, killed him and now Emma's burned the bastard's house down. But Regina still looks tiny standing there, feet bare against the tile, hair still rucked up on one side from sleep, bruised and beaten, but not broken, her spine straight.

When Regina turns, she holds a cup of coffee to Emma, waits for her to take it, surprising Emma with the simple hospitality, "Thank you," Emma says carefully, as she reaches to take it, taking effort not to let her fingers brush the other woman's skin at all.

"Accidental magic," Regina murmurs, sipping at her own coffee before padding softly to the fridge and taking out some hazelnut half'n'half, and this is domesticity at its most basic, and it's weird, it's fucking weird, Emma thinks she's trapped in an especially long Twilight Zone episode, years long Twilight Zone episode, because here she is sipping coffee with a Disney villain, like it's _normal_. "You need more control," Regina goes on, offering the half'n'half to Emma.

"Yeah, well easier said than done," Emma breathes out, rolling her eyes as she fixes up her coffee.

"I _can't_ be your teacher," Regina says, an almost pleading tone mixed in there with the cold ice bitch voice.

Emma shrugs, "Kinda thought that might be the lay of the land," she sighs, "but hell if I'm learning from Gold, there's gotta be others?"

Before her question can be answered the doorbell rings, a single echoing _dingggg _through the house, "I'll put together some names for you," Regina responds, already walking out of the room, her coffee steaming on the counter. Leaving Emma alone and awkward, nothing better to do but sip at her coffee, wondering if she should stand, if she should leave.

But Regina comes back a minute later with a kid in her arms, little and cute, curly dark hair and dimples, Roland, Robin's boy, which makes sense because he's there too, several steps behind Regina and his son, watching the pair as Regina talks softly to the somber little boy that looks close to tears. Dang, Emma thinks, she should have left.

Roland sniffles, wraps his arms around Regina's neck and snuggles, "I missed you so bad," he sniffs, melting further into Regina's torso as she rubs his back in circles.

"So bad-_ly_, Roland," Regina says, soft and easy, turning her head and kissing those curls, "I'm right here, honey," she whispers into his hair, like her and the kid in her arms are the only ones in the room, the only ones that matter at all.

But they are decidedly _not_ the only ones in the room, and Emma is acutely aware of Robin cataloging her presence, is _acutely_ aware of the way his confusion twists his gaze.

"Papa said you were too hurt to see me," Roland goes on, pitiful little wavering voice muffled in the terry cloth robe he's smushing his face against.

"I was very, very hurt, Roland," Regina says, sits heavy down in a chair that Robin's pulled out for her, "I had to rest in the hospital, do you remember what I said about the hospital?"

Roland sniffs, his head nodding against her neck, "for doctors," he mumbles, and Regina smiles, a small thing, barely there, weak, but proud.

"That's right, I had to rest there for a little while, but I'm here now. I'm right here."

Emma drowns the rest of her coffee.

"Hey, I'm gonna go, get me the names? when you can?" she asks, asking softly, trying not to disturb the little bubble of comfort Regina's trying to build around her and the kid.

Regina nods, hand never stilling the circles she's drawing on Roland's back, but Robin follows Emma out of the kitchen, walks with her to the door before Emma's curiosity gets the better of her, she shouldn't ask, it's not her business, but she opens her mouth, "Regina taking you back?" she asks with very little tact.

Robin sighs, a tick in his jaw jumping before he shakes his head, "She loves Roland very much," he says, which doesn't answer shit.

"Marian's cool with Roland being here?" Emma's fairly certain she already knows the answer to that.

A huff of air escapes him, a wry grin on his lips, "What if I told you to mind your own business?" Robin asks, opening the door for Emma with a flourish as Emma chuckles.

"I'd say it sorta is my business," she turns in the doorway, points upwards to the second story, "my kids asleep upstairs, Robin, Regina is his mother."

"I suppose that's true enough," Robin acknowledges, licks his lips, "Marian wants only Roland's happiness," he answers, "and his happiness is Regina."

Emma nods slowly, before looking away with a shrug, "alright, and you know," Emma shrugs again, looks up as if she could see Henry through the ceiling and then back down to Robin, "Henry will kill you if you ever hurt her, you know that, right?"

Robin laughs, a bitter thing, sad, and angry, but tickled too, "Henry has shared exactly what is in store for me if I ever fail her again, no need to worry, Sheriff Swan."

"Hey," Emma's half in the door, half out, she raises a consolatory hand half-heartedly, "nobody said you failed her-"

"If I had been here, _where I belonged_," Robin grits out, hand still on the doorknob, grip tightening, "no harm would have come to her."

Emma swallows, thinks about her badge, about the name plate on her desk, 'Sheriff' they both say, and she shudders and tries not to think that she's failed Regina too, "You can't think that kind of shit-"

"Good day, Sheriff Swan," Robin says, an empty smile on his face.

"Yeah," Emma answers, stepping out to the stoop, "see ya, Robin," she sighs, and turns away before he's fully closed the door.

* * *

Regina sends Henry back to Emma three days later, he has a list of names for her, and a schedule for her to approve, Henry's weeks split for the next four months, written out in blue ink, exactly where he will go every night. And Emma's grateful, grateful because she knows exactly where he'd _choose_ to be, and for the first time since he knocked on her door in Boston, it's not her he'd choose.

* * *

Emma is sitting in the booth next to theirs weeks later, trying not to hear.

They are both talking quietly, but she hears every damn thing.

"It could be mine," Robin whispers, begging, "I will love it, mine or not," pleading, simmering anger and frustration bleeding from his voice.

"If it's a boy?" Regina says, equally as quiet, but vicious, cruel, but tinged with shame, undeserved shame clogging up her voice, "If it's a boy and it looks like its father, will you love it then?" there's a sniffle, quiet, and then rustling of the faux leather booth, "I couldn't, Robin, I _can't_."

Emma stands, acts nonchalant about it as she walks to the bathroom at the back of the diner, neither Robin nor Regina making any indication that they've even noticed her at all.

* * *

But eight months later Regina gives birth to a handsome little boy, with blue eyes, blonde hair and dimples.

Regina sobs and sobs, smiling as she clutches at her new son and Robin, clutching at Robin, "He looks like you," Regina keeps repeating, clutching at Robin and sobbing, "Robin, look at him, he looks just like you."

Emma is in the room because Snow can't be, Neal is sick, David is sick, and Snow is sickest, Snow had sent Emma in her place, as ridiculous as the mere idea had been. Regina nearly broke Emma's hand, gripping it like death as the contractions hit her, and if asked, that's why Emma is nearly crying, she's rubbing at her sore knuckles and sniffing, watching Regina hold that new baby, "Congratulations, Regina," Emma says.

Regina nods, still sobbing, laughing and snorting, a sobbing, happy, mess.

* * *

**authors note, there I finished something! ending things is hard man, like ? it's hard. like I don't even know how to wrap things up if people aren't dead, so I just threw a baby in here**

**EDIT, alright so a guest reviewed with something about Marian, and perhaps I should have wrote it somewhere in the text, but Roland LOVES Marian, she is his mom, I thought that would be implied, it's not like Marian is never gonna see her son again just because she's letting him spend time with another woman, honestly jeez**

* * *

**Disclaimer: never mine**


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